


Little White Misunderstandings

by thelawrencetree



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Drama & Romance, M/M, Romance, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 04:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12880233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelawrencetree/pseuds/thelawrencetree
Summary: Yamato realizes that he's been keeping Taichi and Sora apart and runs away to rural Japan. His timing couldn't possibly be worse. Taito Yamachi Taiyama.





	1. Pale White Butterfly

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: R, for language and slash.
> 
> Pairings: Taito, past Sorato, slight one-sided Taiora, Takari, Kenyako, Jyoumi, Gabumon x Piyomon hints, and maybe a touch of Mimi x Michael, if you really squint. I do apologize for the Kenyako, I like it about as much as the next person (cough cough not at all) but I didn't feel like writing a romantic utopia fic where every character ends up with their soulmate, so I stuck with canon, for them at least. I'm also sorry about the Gabumon x Piyomon. I don't know where in the world that came from. I guess I felt like something should have come out of Sora and Yamato's relationship.
> 
> As for everyone's ages, Taichi, Yamato and Sora are all twenty-two in this. You can figure the rest out.

There's something different about the atmosphere today.

Yamato is focused on the world outside his window with an absent sort of glazed-over intensity.

The clouds aren't unusually low, nor particularly high, he reflects. They're just ... deeper. Thicker, maybe, and more textured than he's used to seeing in Odaiba.

Or New York or London, for that matter.

What he doesn't know is that clouds in higher altitude areas tend to form closer to the ground. This fact is unsurprising considering the increased proximity between the ground and sky at such heights. As a result the clouds are far denser; when close to the sky, water vapor doesn't have as far to rise. So the clouds can't spread out into the smaller, sparser clouds that are characteristic of lower altitude areas, such as most cities, which tend to cluster around bodies of water.

To be honest, Yamato himself doesn't give a damn about all this, he's no meteorologist after all, but it lends us a clue. A clue as to exactly where Yamato's train is headed, even if it gives us no insights as to why he's on it in the first place.

Still mesmerized by the clouds, slowly seeping pink and orange at the bottom edge where the sun has begun to set, reflecting yellow light onto the tips of the mountains, he almost doesn't hear the next announcement.

"End of the line, folks." The voice cuts across his distraction slowly, and Yamato blinks. He feels like he's coming out of a long nap, like he's not quite real yet, and he pulls his suitcase and his guitar off the rack with enormous lethargy.

The train is nearly empty, only one other passenger in his entire car, and the two step onto the platform in eerie unison. The station is just as empty. There's a newspaper pinned under the nearest bench, the wind flapping it against the pavement. The only other people in sight are the conductor, smiling and waving from the last car, and an old man and woman fast asleep on a bench, their shoulders touching.

The other passenger nods at Yamato shortly and strides off, businesslike. Yamato starts to run a hand through his hair, but stops because it's matted and tangled from being pressed against the train window so long.

He sighs. From here it's an hour drive to the house, and he hasn't rented a car yet.

When his grandmother had passed away, she had left her rural home to Yamato and Takeru, much to the surprise of their parents. But neither boy had been willing to go see the place, much less put it to use. It was an avoidance born of fear: fear that the empty house would remind them too much of her, and of their slowly dying childhoods.

But now ... now Yamato doesn't know where else to go.

Predictably, the car rental place closes at five. So he rents a cheap hotel room on the far side of the town and collapses on his tiny bed, hoping that sleep will come easily.

It doesn't. His mind can't help but replay everything in that annoyingly repetitive and circular way.

* * *

It's spring, and the afternoon sunlight hits the swirls of gently cascading cherry blossoms so that they cast tiny dancing shadows on the cement path of the park. The space between Sora and Yamato as they walk is a deep trench hundreds of miles long.

It's a long time before Yamato gathers the will to speak.

"Sora, this can't go on."

A flash of auburn in the corner of his eye as she turns her head to look at him properly for the first time that day.

"What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

A pause. Their feet slap the pavement together, keeping perfect time in a strangely sombre march.

"I waited up for you," he says finally.

She stops walking altogether.

"What?" she says, her eyes frantically studying his face. "What - no, it was never anything like that - I had to study, Yamato -"

"It doesn't matter," he says, his voice harshly cruel.

But he pauses after he's said it and lets out a sigh. "I mean," he says. "I mean, when was the last time we did anything together?"

Sora is silent, conceding the point, urging him to continue.

"We haven't seen each other for two weeks," he reminds her gently. "What kind of relationship is that?"

"A low-maintenance one?" Sora offers, but she doesn't look hopeful.

"It's not a relationship at all." He sighs again, a whoosh like the air being let out of a balloon. "Come on, you have to see that neither of us want this anymore. We haven't tried for the past _year_ , for God's sake."

"I want it," Sora says quietly, looking almost hurt, and Yamato is surprised at the answer.

"You want-" he says. "You really want to continue this charade?"

She shakes her head. "No," she says. "I want _us_ back."

Yamato looks at her and thinks of days long past, of boxes of Christmas cookies and gentle backstage kisses. A painful knot of feeling rises in his chest.

She is silent again, her plain eyes boring into his own. Then, "I loved you."

_Loved_ , he thinks, and then he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it's over. He reaches out and caresses her small face anyway.

"I loved you too," he says softly. "But it was a long time ago, and we were just kids."

"Not that long ago," she contradicts, but she's smiling a sad smile of agreement. "Maybe we were too young to really know."

"Know what?"

"What love is."

Yamato stares at her, but she's no longer looking at him. Instead her eyes are unfocused, her face turned away from his. She's beautiful, caught in this moment of pain.

"Do you love _him_?"

He doesn't quite register the question until it's already made its way out of his mouth. The bitterness in his voice surprises him.

"Hmm?" says Sora. She doesn't turn her head.

"Taichi. Do you love him?"

She still won't look at him.

"He loves you, Sora. Can't you see that?"

"Yamato - "

A strangled sob escapes his throat to hover in the pale June air like some still, sad butterfly.

"And you love him."

Silence speaks volumes, Yamato knows, and Sora's is no different.

"I don't know, Yamato, I ... just don't know anything anymore. I'm confused, and ..." She trails away into nothingness, biting her bottom lip.

Yamato blinks in the silence, the fall of his heavy eyelids conveying surrender more effectively than any words ever have. Standing in the park on a spring day, all he feels is his own sorrow.

"I should have seen it," he mutters. "I should have - how could I - I hurt my two best friends ... I'm such a jerk, I'm such a selfish, stupid, emotionally stunted _moron_ , he's loved you all this time, and I never - I never ..."

"Yamato?" Sora's voice is quiet and hesitant. Her face turns up to his, her sadness written on her brow. "You never what?"

"I never even let you in," he whispers. "I never once let down my walls for you, Sora, I'm so sorry. You deserve better."

His voice suddenly stronger, "You deserve Taichi."

* * *

Now Yamato's throat is threatening to release that same sad white butterfly of a sob. He chokes it back angrily, taut in his stiffly laundered bed, tears blurring his view of the bumpy pop-corned ceiling.

Other memories run through his mind, too, an incessant torrent of regret and sadness; Sora clinging to Taichi and not him as Diaboromon moves toward them, giant grins across both their faces in a backyard soccer game, the casual exchange of familiar glances, knocked shoulders and brushed hands.

He should have broken up with Sora a long time ago.

It seems so obvious, now that he knows. And it's true, everything is clearer in retrospect. No wonder Taichi hasn't called him in years.

He's done the right thing, he knows, coming here. He is unwanted, he is unnecessary, and he is in the way. Taichi and Sora are his best friends, and he wants nothing but their happiness. So he gets himself out of their way, because he doesn't want to distract them with his own unhappiness, and he knows that he can't watch them together, not without crying or locking himself up or screaming or something. He has no clue how Taichi did it for so long.

So he's run away. He's a coward and there are some things he will never be able to confront. Being alone in the face of their happiness is number one on that list.

He's never going to get to sleep at this rate, he realizes, flipping over onto his side again. He has to stop this obsessing. So what to think about?

If he were anywhere else, he'd get out his guitar or his harmonica and start messing around, but he's in a hotel room and he has a feeling that the other patrons wouldn't appreciate that kind of thing. He's not really in the mood to get kicked out. Though it would be fitting, for an unloved loser like him.

No. He's here to get away. He will not think about this anymore. Tomorrow - tomorrow a new life starts.

He buries himself further in the sheets and begins to sing one of his songs in his head, carefully thinking through the chord progressions as he goes. It's reassuring, and soon enough he is asleep.

He has tiny fleeting dreams of other people's faces.


	2. Same Old Taichi?

Sora is standing outside Taichi's new apartment on the south side of Odaiba and all she can think about is how familiar this scene is to her. How many times has she stood on his terrace, on the verge of knocking? She doesn't know, but it's been quite a few. She has known him since they were tiny children, playing soccer in the park with a ball that must have been twice as big as their heads.

She smiles as she notices the door mat she's standing on has its corners flipped up and the plant next to the door is slumped over, limpid and neglected. There's no name tag next to the door.

"Same old Taichi," she breathes fondly.

As much as things have changed, they have stayed the same. Even though this is a new apartment, it doesn't look much different from the old Yagami place.

She doesn't know what she's going to say to this boy she's basically loved since birth, but she's got to say something. The two-year silence between them is unnatural, unheard of, and it has to be worked out.

And maybe it really is Taichi she's meant for.

So she gathers up what little courage she has and knocks twice on the door.

Her stomach is twisting nervously. She doesn't know what to expect. Maybe he won't be there. More likely he'll slam the door in her face.

What she's really not expecting is a yawning, confused-looking Taichi in boxers and an oversized t-shirt.

"For God's sake, Taichi, it's two in the afternoon," she says before she can stop herself, caught somewhere between irritation and amusement.

Taichi blinks comically. "Sora?" He blinks again. "What are you doing here?"

Sora's mind tries frantically to sort out an answer to that question, but she's panicking a little, and nothing really comes to mind.

"Yamato and I broke up," she eventually says in her softest voice, focusing on a point somewhere behind Taichi's ear.

Taichi blinks a couple more times. Sora wonders if he's capable of any other reaction. "Oh shit," he says. "Come in."

Sora steps into the mess that is Taichi's universe and scrunches up her nose. There's dirty laundry and empty take-out boxes scattered across the floor, giant crumbs and misshapen piles of paper on the table, several pizza boxes balanced precariously on top of the TV.

"Couldn't keep the place even a little bit respectable, could you," she mutters.

Taichi grins, closing the door behind her. "I hope you're not hungry or anything, 'cause I haven't got any food."

"Typical bachelor," Sora says, smiling back tentatively. She's glad to see they've managed to retain some degree of normalcy.

Taichi flops onto the couch with his particular brand of carelessness and waves her over, indicating the space next to him. "You wanna talk about it?"

Sora sits down delicately, still unsure of herself. "No, not really."

"Yes, you do," says Taichi with confidence. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here, would you?"

He grins smugly, proud of his logic, and Sora can't help but laugh. In fact, she can't stop laughing, even though there's nothing terribly funny at all about what Taichi's just said, and soon she is leaning back comfortably, hysterical laughter bubbling up in little bursts.

"What?" says Taichi, puzzled. "What's so funny?"

And suddenly she's got her arms around him and she can feel the beginnings of tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, Taichi, I missed you so much!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Taichi exclaims, backing up on the sofa rapidly. "Geez, slow down, Sora!"

Sora pulls back and wipes her face on her sleeve. God, she's a mess. Her emotions are just jumping all over the place.

"Sorry," she says. "It's just - you're one of my best friends. I really missed you." Her voice gets quiet and serious. "I don't think I could live without you, Taichi."

"Sora?" he says quietly, a strange expression on his face.

Looking at him, at his ridiculous mop of hair and his messy t-shirt and his worried expression, Sora is struck by something. It's not love, whatever they have, not like that at least. It's just ... Sora and Taichi. They've got this bond between them, but it's not more than that. It's just an unusually close bond between longtime friends, and it seems that's something that's far too easy to mistake as something more.

She chuckles to herself. Holder of the crest of love, _right_. Too bad she's absolute shit in that department. Can't even keep her own emotions straight. Oh, ew, imagine kissing _Taichi_. It would be like kissing Takeru, who's basically her little brother after so long with Yamato, or maybe kissing Piyomon, or something.

"Sora?" says Taichi again. "You're not ... hitting on me, are you?"

Sora laughs at the look of horror on his face.

"Oh, Taichi," she says in her most sultry voice, "take me right now."

Taichi's expression now is one of complete and utter terror, and then it relaxes into relief as Sora begins giggling.

"Christ, you scared me, Sora."

Sora turns serious again. "I thought I did." she says.

"You did what?" says Taichi, again confused.

"I thought I loved you," she replies.

"Yeah, me too," Taichi says casually, not looking surprised, "back when you first started dating Yamato. I felt like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life, letting you go."

His expression clouds. "It was someone else I liked, though."

There is a moment's silence between them. Sora's about to break it and ask exactly who Taichi is talking about, but he gets to it first.

"How about you?" he says.

Sora stares at him, unsure of his meaning.

"When did you think you loved me?" he explains.

"Oh." Sora smiles, embarrassed. "A couple minutes ago."

" _What_?"

Sora laughs. "Well, Yamato thought that's why you stopped talking to us, so - "

" _What?!_ "

"Taichi, stop interrupting me."

"Sorry," he says, having the good sense to look abashed. Sora sniffs contemptuously, then continues.

"Basically, he told me that he'd never loved me."

"Oh, ouch," says Taichi sympathetically. Even after being reproached, he continues interrupting her, Sora notices with a smile.

"Yeah, I don't know," Sora says. "It makes sense, when you think about it. We were never that close, really - "

"But you've been dating for five years! You live together!"

"Yeah, we went on dates, but there was always this distance between us," Sora sighs. "You know how Yamato's got that wall around him?"

"More like a _maze_ of walls," Taichi replies.

Sora laughs. "That's exactly it. After the Digiworld, he let down most of those walls for us, but there were a few left. Yamato and I were close - we were even in love, once upon a time - but he always had at least one of those damn walls up when I was around."

She sighs, smiling the small, sad smile of regret. "Even after all these years, he never fully relaxed around me. He knows it too. That's what he said the day he left - _I never let you in_. I guess he was too scared. He never learned to trust me, really."

"Then why'd you keep dating for so long? Why'd you move in together?"

"Oh, Taichi, we're both just so stubborn," Sora laughs. "I guess I couldn't admit to myself that I couldn't get through to him, and Yamato - "

"Was too stubborn to admit anything was wrong in the first place?" Taichi finishes for her, matching her sad smile with a small one of his own.

"Exactly."

They stare at each other for a minute. When they speak again, it's at the same time.

"I'm glad it's over, to be honest," says Sora.

"So how'd you figure it out?" Taichi asks, genuine curiosity on his face.

There's a slight pause as they decipher each other's comments.

"That I'm not in love with you?" Sora says finally, sad smile still in place.

Taichi nods.

"No clue, really," says Sora, "I just figured it out. I looked at you, and imagined kissing you and - "

"Eugh," they say simultaneously.

"Well, _I'm_ glad _that's_ over with," says Taichi.

They lapse into comfortable silence, Taichi shifting so that his giant feet are resting on top of Sora's legs. The more things change, the more they stay the same, Sora thinks warmly, and then, _wait a minute_ ...

"All right, Yagami," says Sora, reaching over and poking him in the chest indignantly. "Feet off. And I still have one question for you."

"Oh yeah, what's that?" Taichi moves his legs under him, looking distinctly uncomfortable, as if he has an idea of what's coming.

"If you weren't in love with me, why in the world did you ignore me and Yamato for so long?"

His eyes widen comically, but no answer is immediately forthcoming. Instead a tense silence falls. Then ...

"Eh he he he," says Taichi nervously. "That."

"Well?" says Sora, crossing her arms. "It'd better be good."

"Oh no, I sense scary angry girl-mode coming on."

"Stop avoiding the subject, Taichi."

"Fine," he says sulkily.

He sits there for another minute, looking as nervous as she's ever seen him, and then it all comes out in one very fast breath, "I'minlovewithYamato."

Now Sora is the one blinking. "Oh my god."

Taichi looks even more nervous, if that's possible.

"Oh no, I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said that, can we please forget about this conversation? Please? I didn't mean it, I ..."

Sora lets Taichi's denials wash over her, a thoughtful expression on her face. She quickly becomes absorbed in her thoughts, not noticing when Taichi begins pulling desperately at her arm.

"Sora? Sora? You're not going to tell him, are you? Sora?"

Slowly, a smile spreads across her face.

"This is _great,_ " she says happily.

"What?" says Taichi dumbly, his hand halting its yanking.

Sora turns her gaze to him, her face lit up. "Do you know what it's like to be the only girl in a love triangle?"

"Umm, no," says Taichi flatly. "Obviously not."

"Where both boys are your _best friends_?" she continues. "It's horrible."

Taichi looks at her in surprise. "It's horrible to be universally adored?" he says dryly.

"It's _horrible!_ " she repeats. "I'm not kidding. You have to make this terrible, impossible choice, and either way you lose one of them and then they stop talking to each other and you end up without best friends at all!"

She smiles and stands up, stretching. "And now you tell me it was never like that at all. What a relief!"

"What? No!" says Taichi, looking frustrated. "Sora, sit down!"

He grabs her wrist and pulls her forcefully back down onto the couch. Sora's eyes widen at the gesture.

"Sorry," Taichi says gruffly, noticing her shock. "It's just - what about me?"

"What about you?"

Taichi runs his hand through his hair worriedly. "I don't know what to do, Sora," he says. "I ... can't live like this. I miss Yamato."

"Well, start talking to him again!" Sora says irritably. She feels immediately guilty, though, when Taichi's face crumples. He looks on the verge of tears. It's kind of a strange look on him, but it fits in with his whole overgrown kid look.

"I can't!"

"Oh, Taichi. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. I'm sure you don't have anything to worry about," she says in her most reassuring voice, gently placing a hand on his knee.

"I don't have anything to worry about?" Taichi mutters. He snorts. "I don't have anything to _worry_ about? What about the fact that I've lost my best friend forever just because I had to go and _fall in love with him?_ "

Sora frowns. She's never seen him like this before. "Well, okay, maybe it is a bit of a sticky situation..."

"A bit?!"

"Taichi, it's not like you're going to lose him!"

Taichi looks at her reproachfully, effectively saying _I have, remember?_ Okay, maybe that was a little tactless.

"What I mean is, Yamato's still your friend. He's not going to stop being your friend just because of this. He cares a lot about you, you know?"

"Does not," Taichi says in a sullen, childlike voice.

"Don't be ridiculous," Sora says authoritatively. "He left me because he wanted us both to be happy."

She reaches out and tilts Taichi's fallen face up towards hers. "He wanted _you_ to be happy, Taichi."

Encouraged by the very slight lift at the corners of Taichi's mouth, Sora pushes on. "He was so worried that he had hurt you."

Taichi looks Sora in the eyes for another minute, as if searching for the truth of her statement. "He was?"

"Yes," she says firmly, careful not to look away in case it discourages her friend.

"D'you think... " Taichi says, a bit breathlessly.

"I don't know, Taichi, I told you we were never that close," Sora says, impatient suddenly. "But don't get your hopes up."

She smiles at him sadly. "I don't want to see you get hurt either. Just ... promise me you'll be friends again."

Taichi nods. "I'll try."

Then, softly, "I hope he's okay."

Silence descends again. For a few minutes, nothing but the hum of the radiator and the distant rumble of passing airplanes can be heard.

"I'm hungry," says a familiar voice from another room. Sora jumps.

"Sorry, buddy, we ate everything yesterday," Taichi calls over his shoulder. Agumon wanders into the room, a giant yawn revealing a large pink tongue and row upon row of tiny, sharp teeth.

"But I'm hungry," he repeats. "Oh, hi Sora. Nice to see you around here again."

"Hi, Agumon," says Sora fondly. "You boys want to go out to a late lunch? My treat."

"Okay, I changed my mind," says Agumon jokingly, "it's _really_ nice to see you around here again."

"All right," says Sora, "I'll drive. But I want to pick up Piyomon from my apartment first."


	3. Of Cell Phones and Bathhouses

Yamato stares up the steps to his grandmother's house, keys and luggage in hand, a slight grin starting to form on his face.

"God, I love it here," he says to himself, a small bit of contentment nestling itself in his chest.

He glances around again. Trees, check. Dirt road, check. Rotting old house, check. Ancient stone steps with weeds growing out the cracks, check. Ah, home at last.

He makes his halting way up the steps, hindered by the weight of his suitcase and the unwieldy shape of his bass. At the top he dumps his stuff and leans over, breathing heavily. That's going to take a while to get used to, he thinks.

Okay. Now what? The house has been abandoned for years. He doesn't even want to know what he's going to find inside. What if no one ever came to clean the place up? What if the last meal his grandmother ever made is still sitting and molding in the sink? Or even worse, right where it sat on the dining room table the day she passed away?

He shudders.

Houses are complex and sometimes frightening enigmas. They are where we make our home, where we spend the majority of our hours, be it awake or lost in dreams, where we play out the daily struggle of trying to define exactly who it is we are. They are ours to own, ours to conquer and shape, and yet, in some small way, they end up owning us. They characterize us in every detail. Who we are is revealed in every piece of furniture, every unwashed dish, every fingerprint left smudged on a door frame. A house is a record, a living history of everything we are, and so, somewhere between the move-in and the move-out, a house becomes _alive_.

Unfortunately, the house does not die with the departure of the owner. No, it lives on, quietly breathing in the deserted air, everything that was once warm and human within it cooling and rotting until it becomes nothing more than decayed, maggot-ridden flesh, an empty shell of what was but a living shell all the same. Any house that's been abandoned as long as Yamato's is therefore a dark and terrifying thing, a thing of nightmares, of nighttime creaks and whispers, of bleak corners and webs of shadows, even in the bright stillness of day.

But it's nothing a little cleaning won't fix, Yamato resolves firmly, and he turns the key in the lock.

It's not terror that strikes at Yamato's heart when he opens the door, nor is it grief, or any other immediately discernible reaction. It's . . . unease.

There's nothing rotting in the sink, nothing sitting half-eaten on the table, only a fine layer of dust on the floor and the furniture. Pale thin beams of light creep quietly through the windows and cast yellowed stripes on the floor, illuminating millions upon millions of dust specks slowly swirling through the air.

Yes. Definite unease.

Yamato quickly closes the door behind him and sets his stuff on the floor. God, he'd forgotten how big this house is. He's only got one suitcase, and unless he goes on a major shopping trip the house is going to stay as empty as it is right now.

All right. Time to take inventory.

He walks into the kitchen and turns the sink handles experimentally, more than a little surprised when ice cold water starts pouring from them right away. The house might have private water rights, he thinks hopefully. Or maybe even a hot spring.

He flicks at the light switch with one finger. Nothing happens. Not surprising. He had no reason to expect the electric company to keep the juice running without getting a paycheck. He'll have to head into town in a while to turn it back on.

The refrigerator has been emptied, luckily, but there's still a couple of bags of rice in the cupboard.

The gas stove flickers on after a couple of tries. Yamato frowns. It might be a good idea to get it checked out, just in case. He wouldn't want the thing to start leaking or something.

Hmm, what else, what else ...

He slides open the door to the downstairs bedroom. It's empty except for a small, low-to-the-ground bed pushed against the wall. Seems all right.

He climbs the ladder to the upstairs easily and pushes himself up into the attic bedrooms. A minimal amount of light seeps through the tiny circular side window, leaving only a round spot on the floor. He looks at the ceiling, trying to see if there are any leaks, but the sun doesn't seem to be able to force its way through anywhere. That's good, at least.

Everything seems in order up here, so Yamato clambers back down the ladder to go have a look at the bath house.

When he slides open the door to the backyard, he grins. There's a clearing with the bath house situated along the back edge, and beyond that is pure forest. The trees are huge and the ground is completely shadowed by the overhead foliage.

There's such a sense of history here, Yamato thinks, closing his eyes and basking in it. It's nice to know that somehow some things remain long after the passing of our tiny mortal lives.

The bath house is just as dusty and abandoned as the rest of the house, but marginally more damp.

Yamato just can't believe his luck. A real bath house. This is the kind of domestic luxury the big city can't afford.

The water runs perfectly, just like in the kitchen. There's plenty of hot water, too. The water heater must be gas-powered, then. Or maybe the water is from an actual underground hot spring.

"All right!" says Yamato, unusually enthusiastic, surveying the place with the god-like pride and self-assurance that comes with property ownership.

That's the thing about life ... no matter how bad it gets, no matter how bad you mess things up, you can always turn around and start again.

Yamato mentally shakes himself as his stomach plummets. No, not thinking about Taichi and Sora. There's no time for that.

Instead he goes back into the house and grabs a mop from the kitchen. Time to do some house-cleaning.

* * *

Takeru makes a face at his phone.

"What?" says Hikari as she turns from the stove momentarily and catches the face.

" 'The Nokia user you are trying to reach is currently out of service,' " Takeru imitates bitterly.

"That's weird," says Hikari. "Doesn't Yamato have that international plan for when he's on tour?"

"Yeah," Takeru replies, "and he's supposed to be in Tokyo right now anyway."

"Did you try his apartment?" Hikari asks.

Takeru nods. "He didn't pick up. Neither did Sora."

"Why don't you call her cell?" Tailmon suggests from her perch on the refrigerator, lifting her head up from her arms momentarily.

"Good idea, Tailmon," Hikari says, turning back to her cooking.

Sora's on speed dial, so Takeru presses nine and waits for the phone to ring.

"Hey, Takeru," Sora's voice answers casually after a couple of rings.

"Hi, Sora," Takeru replies, "Is Yamato around?"

There's an awkward pause.

Takeru frowns, puzzled.

"No, he's not," Sora says eventually. "Sorry, Takeru."

"Do you know how I can get ahold of him? His phone's not working, and his digivice is turned off."

"It is?" Her voice is suddenly filled with quiet concern. None of them ever turn off their digivices. It's what Miyako refers to as 'Digidestined policy.'

Takeru blinks. "Do you know where he is?" he asks again.

A sudden rush of static in his ear. Sora must be sighing.

"No, I don't, Takeru, I'm sorry."

Takeru is momentarily quieted.

"What's up, Sora?"

"I ... I can't ..."

Well, this is going nowhere fast.

"Hold on a minute." Takeru puts his hand over the mouthpiece and turns to Hikari.

"Would you talk to her, Hikari? I can't get anything out of her."

Hikari turns around again, wiping her hands on her apron. "Sure, if you'll watch over the rice for me."

" 'Course," says Takeru, and they trade places. Takeru stirs with a little more agitation than is strictly necessary and listens to Hikari's conversation.

"Hi, Sora, it's Hikari."

There's a pause, presumably because Sora's talking. Hikari glances over at him with a tiny smile.

"He sure is. So what's going on?"

Pause.

"All right, all right. At least tell me _why_ you can't tell me."

Pause.

"What do you mean, you're not the right person to tell me? You're Yamato's girlfriend. Who could be better?"

Pause.

"First you're not the right person, now it's not the right time. Sora, please just tell me. It can't be that bad."

Pause.

"Is that Taichi in the background?"

Takeru whips his head around. No way. Could Sora be ...

Taichi hasn't spoken to Sora or Yamato in years, Takeru knows. It has always really frustrated Yamato, to the extent that Takeru's never successfully gotten him to talk about it.

Sometimes Taichi comes over to their apartment when he's in really bad shape, drunk or depressed or both, and Taichi and Hikari disappear out onto the deck and talk for hours and hours until he finally falls asleep and Takeru and Hikari have to carry him inside to the sofa and drape blankets over him. On the worst of these nights Hikari makes Takeru drive to Taichi's apartment and pick up Agumon so he'll be there for Taichi in the morning. She never tells him what she and Taichi talk about, no matter how much he insists, but he's always suspected it has to do with Sora and Yamato.

Now he knows it does.

"Oh, shit," says Takeru.

"Explain." Hikari's voice has the steely edge it gets sometimes when she's really upset. Takeru knows better to argue with that voice, and apparently so does Sora, because Hikari falls silent, a look of intense concentration on her face.

"And you have no idea where he went?" she says a few minutes later. She frowns at whatever it is Sora says. "That doesn't sound so good. Okay, here's Takeru. Tell him everything you told me."

Hikari hands the phone back. Takeru presses it between his ear and his shoulder, still stirring.

"All right, Sora, what happened?" he says.

"Hi, Takeru," says Taichi's voice.

Takeru groans. "What happened to Sora?"

"She's a wimp," Taichi says. His grin is almost audible. "Okay, here's the short of things. Yamato and Sora broke up yesterday and Yamato left and didn't tell Sora where he was going."

Fuck.

"Did you have anything to do with this break-up, Yagami?" Takeru says suspiciously.

"Actually, no," says Taichi. "Well, not really anyway."

"Taichi ..." says Takeru in his most threatening tone of voice.

There's a pause in which Takeru can quite clearly hear Taichi's breathing. It's a bit harsh, what one might call ragged even.

"Apparently Yamato thought I was in love with Sora." Taichi's voice is matter-of-fact and yet still oddly strained.

Takeru sighs. "Oh god, let me guess. He sacrificed his own happiness for his friends. Typical self-degrading Yamato."

"Baka," Taichi agrees.

The lull this time is noticeably less tense.

"Are you?" Takeru says, his tone confrontational again. "In love with Sora?"

"No," Taichi replies. "Even if I was, I wouldn't do that to Yamato."

Takeru wonders if he can trust him. He is, after all, with Sora at the moment. After a minute he decides that it _is_ Taichi, and the man is absolutely transparent. If he was in love with Sora, no lie could have rolled off his tongue that easily.

"Good."

"Why were you trying to call him anyway?"

"Oh, right. Well, Koushiro called here after leaving a message on Yamato's cell. Apparently he got some sort of message from Gabumon. He said the file was corrupted and he couldn't make out much of it, but it sounded like he was in trouble."

Taichi groans on the other end. "Great. Perfect timing, huh?"

"Yeah, basically. If either of you hear from Yamato or figure out where he is, give me a call."

"Of course. I'll call Koushiro and see what else I can do."

"Okay, Taichi. Nice to hear from you."

"Sure. And Sora says she's sorry about being so difficult earlier."

Takeru laughs. "She should be. Bye."

He hangs up, worried.

"I hate when Yamato runs off like this," he mutters to himself.

"Don't worry, Takeru, Yamato will be okay," says Patamon, flapping his ridiculously large ears - or are they more accurately classified as wings? - and making his way over to Takeru.

"You sound like his parent," Hikari says with a small smile.

"Sometimes I feel like I _am_ his parent," Takeru replies with a short laugh. "And sometimes I feel like he's mine."

"I know how that is," Hikari says, genuinely giggling this time.

"Yeah, well, Taichi is about as emotionally mature as a five-year-old."

They share a laugh, then turn serious again.

"Takeru, you know Yamato better than anyone. Where do you think he's gone?"

Takeru looks up contemplatively. "I really don't know. I'd say the Digiworld, but if he's not with Gabumon I don't think he's there at all."

Hikari nods shortly.

"I'll call one of his band members," Takeru decides. "He might have called to cancel practice or something."

But he hasn't. When Takeru calls Akira, the first thing out of Akira's mouth is, "Oh, Takeru! Have you heard from Yamato?"

"That would have been too easy," Hikari says when Takeru bangs the phone down in obvious frustration.

"I guess," Takeru replies, dialing his father's number with the speed of familiarity and the furiousness of the very worried.

"Dad! Have you heard from Yamato lately?"

"Hi, Takeru. I haven't. Not for about a week," comes the familiar voice.

Takeru's mouth twitches. He briefs his father on the situation, ending with a quick, "Call me right away if you hear anything, okay?"

"Is it possible he'd go to your mom's?" Hikari asks softly.

Takeru leans his weight on the kitchen counter as if he can no longer hold himself up. "Not likely, but possible, I suppose."

But there's no such luck. After a short conversation with his mother that much resembles his earlier one with his dad, he hangs up the phone again.

"Come on, Takeru, have some dinner. We can call the other Digidestined afterwards."


	4. Digital Trouble

"I feel so guilty," says Sora, leaning forward intently, eyes on the road, lunch now long forgotten. "I just let him walk out. I should have at least asked him where he was going to go."

Taichi, on the other hand, is scowling as he leans back in his seat, arms crossed and eyes closed. "Hmph," he says intelligibly.

"I am _such_ a shitty friend!" Sora bangs her fist against the steering wheel.

Taichi makes no reply.

Sora spares him a quick glance. "See, you agree with me, don't you?"

"Don't worry about it," Taichi says, eyes still closed. "I didn't think to ask _you_ where he was."

Sora looks at Taichi in disbelief. "Ohhhh, no, you don't, Taichi. You haven't even talked to Yamato in years - "

"Oh, don't remind me," Taichi says, his eyes finally popping open. "That's my fault too, you know, if I'd just - "

"If you'd just what?" Sora snaps, swerving to the left dangerously to avoid a passing car. "If you'd just pretended there was nothing wrong, I'm sure that would have worked, because you're such a _wonderful_ liar - "

"At least Yamato wouldn't have gone jumping to conclusions about everything!"

Sora rolls her eyes. "That's ridiculous. How do _you_ know he wouldn't have? It seems to me he's got a propensity for that kind of thing. Almost as much as _you_ do."

"Shut up!" Taichi yells. In the back seat, Agumon and Piyomon exchange their best what-in-the-world-is-wrong-with-humans looks.

"They sound just like they did when they were kids," says Agumon.

"Yeah, I thought they were supposed to be grown up now."

The two digimon shrug. As far as they can see, there's not much difference.

As Sora and Taichi swap barbed words thinly disguising concern for Yamato and disgust with their own thoughtlessness, she can't help thinking what a strange turn of events this is, and how strange it is that she's adapted to it so easily. The knowledge that Taichi loves Yamato seeps into the corners of her consciousness easily, as easily as sticking a microwave dinner in the oven. Or slipping out of a bathrobe.

She blinks. What a strange analogy.

Still, she's finding it hard to accept her easy acceptance of this. Perhaps it's not as much of a surprise as it should be.

Now _that's_ interesting. Sora thinks back to Taichi and Yamato's easy camaraderie. Replaying scene after scene in her mind, she realizes just how close the two of them were. Half the time, they maintained the kind of comfortable silence that indicates complete understanding, and half of their conversations were left unsaid, leaving anyone listening wallowing in complete confusion. And in every fight, they stood side by side, an unbreakable wall of determination and trust. Back then, she'd attributed it to . . . well, she didn't know what she'd attributed it to, really, but she'd taken it for granted.

She's not saying it's true love, or even requited, but . . . well, it makes sense that a friendship that close yielded something more.

"Aww, Sora, you missed the exit!" Taichi groans.

Sora blinks, surprised, the road coming into focus again. "Whoops. Guess I wasn't paying attention."

"No kidding," Taichi mutters. "I guess we'd better stop arguing. Get off here, I'll show you the back way."

The rest of the ride to Koushiro's apartment passes in silence.

* * *

Koushiro is typing furiously away on his computer with one hand and dialing the phone with the other. An impressive feat, to be sure, but as a computer analyst it's almost required. Anyway, it's not as if multi-tasking like this gets you invited to a lot of parties.

Koushiro smiles at that thought. _Parties,_ hah. It's not as if Koushiro hasn't done his fair share of drinking to drown his sorrows - God, he's done a lot more than his share, Taichi can attest to that - but he doesn't like boisterous crowds of people or loud music and he especially doesn't like dancing. It's a spectacle, and if there's one thing that Koushiro can't stand it's the false allure of spectacle.

He and Taichi's friendship these days is based on alcohol. Who would have thought that Taichi of all people would be a quiet drunk? But he is. Maybe because he's so damn irrepressible the rest of the time. He talks in an effort to conceal his emotions, or maybe he even talks to try to get them out, a desperate but nonetheless futile attempt to connect with everyone around him, but if this is the case Koushiro is forced to admit it has some merit because Taichi's far more successful socially than he'll ever be. But truthfully this doesn't seem to be an accurate proposition because Taichi is never forced, never fake. Talking comes naturally to him, so naturally that Taichi blurts out everything that has ever crossed his mind without thinking, which is why he can appear so clueless to people who don't know him, although to be strictly honest he is at least a little clueless even when you do know him, and it's really quite extraordinary that Taichi has managed to keep quiet about Yamato for so long, being as loquacious as he is.

But when Taichi visits the blurry, removed world of drunkenness he just wallows in his emotions. It's one of the few occasions where you won't find him talking. Anyway, that's why the two of them make such good drinking buddies.

"Hello-o?" says the phone saccharinely and Koushiro, absorbed in his thoughts, almost drops it in surprise.

"Mimi, it's Koushiro," he says, recovering quickly.

"Koushiro! Hi!"

"Hi. I'm calling to inquire as to whether you've heard anything from Yamato or the Digiworld lately." He quickly explains the situation to her.

"Well, Tanemon's here," Mimi says finally. "I'll ask her if she knows anything."

A series of loud bangs at his front door makes Koushiro jump.

"Excellent. Thank you, Mimi," he says, rising from his chair, making sure to lock his keyboard before he goes. Can't be too careful when it comes to protecting the old hard drive.

Koushiro weaves his way through piles of stuff, some of it garbage, some of it of extreme personal importance. Lately his apartment is looking increasingly similar to Taichi's, but at least he has his computer and his work as an excuse.

Whoever's at the door bangs on it again.

"Impatient, are we?" Koushiro mutters. He can hear Mimi's voice in the background of the telephone still, presumably talking to Tanemon or maybe Michael.

Tentomon comes fluttering out of the kitchen. "I would answer it but I don't have any hands," he jokes in his mechanical manner.

Koushiro releases the latch and opens the door to find Sora and Taichi panting breathlessly on the stoop, their digimon behind them. Takeru must have called them, then.

"Come in," he says, pointing to the phone. "Tentomon?"

"You got it," Tentomon replies, ushering the four visitors into the living room.

"No luck, Koushiro," comes Mimi's voice a second later.

He sighs. "All right. I've got to go, but give me a call if you hear anything."

"Same to you. I mean it, Koushiro."

Koushiro smiles. It appears Mimi's love for gossip of all sorts remains intact, despite the severity of the situation.

In the living room, Taichi and Sora sit tensely on the sofa. The digimon look far more comfortable, honestly.

"All right," Koushiro says in his most businesslike voice. "We can't proceed with a plan of action until we have every possible piece of information on the table."

" _What_ information?" Sora says despairingly. "Yamato took nothing that would give away where he went, and he didn't say anything to anyone."

"We don't know that yet," says Koushiro. "Now, I've called Mimi and Jyou but I haven't called any of the younger Digidestined yet. They might have heard something from him, or at the least something about Gabumon's situation in the Digiworld."

"It's not likely," Agumon speaks up. "I was in the Digiworld only yesterday and I didn't see anything out of the ordinary."

"And Yamato's not really close with any of the new kids," Taichi adds.

"Who knows, he may have called Ken looking for empathy. If any of us have been through dark times it's him," Sora reasons.

"Dark times?" Koushiro asks.

"Yamato and Sora broke up," Piyomon says bluntly.

Koushiro blinks. "Right. Well, even if he hasn't contacted any of them, there are other things we can do. Just let me get my computer."

"I'll call Miyako," Sora says as he walks out, pulling her cell phone from her coat pocket. "You call Daisuke."

Koushiro's mind works a bit like a computer program, taking pieces of information and treating them as variables in whatever problem he's trying to solve. So he collects piece by piece and plugs them in one at a time until he can reduce the problem to the simplest possible solution. It's very mathematical, and it always works, as long as all the variables can be found and as long as there are no unknowns interfering. Right now, the equation of where in hell Yamato is and the equation of what's happening to Gabumon are just two long strings of variables and unknowns, but a million other related calculations are churning in his mind.

Life is algebra.

Koushiro brings his laptop into the living room and begins typing away.

"All the new kids are on their way over," Taichi chirps.

"Prodigious," he replies, already absorbed in his work. "We may not have a situation here, but if we do we'll need all the help we can get."

A terse silence falls, Taichi and Sora looking still more nervous and Koushiro at work on the computer.

"Oh _no,_ " he says after a few minutes.

"What is it?" Taichi asks, sitting up alertly in his chair. In direct contrast, Sora sinks back into hers, as if Koushiro's concerned voice is an enormous weight.

"Look at this," Koushiro says grimly, turning the computer for them to see. On the screen is what looks like a geographical relief map.

"What is it?" Agumon says after a minute of staring at the map, echoing Taichi's earlier question.

"It charts power lines in our world," he explains, "from a compilation of data from the world's major energy companies. From this we can see a little bit of evidence of the energy flow between our world and the digital world."

Koushiro points out the energy plants on the map. "These areas indicate incoming energy from nuclear plants, coal plants, solar and wind power, and other sources.

"In our world all energy comes directly or indirectly from the sun, but energy in the digital world comes directly from ours. More specifically, it comes from our Internet. Following the law of conservation of energy, any energy taken up by the digital world will eventually be released back _into_ ours in the form of electrical discharges."

Taichi and Sora are looking at him as if he's got two heads. Koushiro is used to this look. He is, after all, in computers.

"As a result, there is usually an equilibrium of energy discharge and energy consumption. This is upset when a lot of data is being permanently erased, such as when parts of the Digital world are destroyed. The result of such a situation is always a discharge of electricity into our world, represented on this chart by these orange areas." Koushiro points at several small areas on the map.

"These are termed unexplained power surges by electrical engineers who know nothing of the digital world."

He pauses again and studies the map, gathering his words to continue.

"However, the _consumption_ of energy by the digital world is marginal. In fact, the digital world does not consume energy at all. Rather it absorbs excess data, which doesn't show up on the chart because the data is waste. If that data weren't absorbed by the digital world it would just be released as heat.

"The amount of excess data released into the digital world is enough to account for all digivolutions and all biological growth, and in fact for the digital sun itself. Even with all this taken in, there is still leftover data. "

"Fascinating," Tentomon says encouragingly.

"So what are these orange and red areas?" Taichi asks, pointing at the graph.

"There's our trouble," Koushiro answers darkly. "Something's consuming a hell of a lot of energy."

"How do we know that it's something from the Digiworld?" Sora says quietly.

"Look at the gate." Koushiro pulls up the window for them.

"It's open," says Sora, stunned.

"Every gate that exists has been opened." Koushiro explains. "They're sucking small amounts of energy through to the other side."

Taichi and Sora exchange twin looks of horror.

"What could it be?"

"I don't know yet. If we make a guess using precedent as a guide I'd have to say it's some sort of evil digimon trying to harness power."

"So what do we do?" Sora whispers.

"We need to find out what it is. And we need to find Yamato. If Gabumon is involved, he needs to know." Taichi says firmly.

Koushiro nods.

"I'm going to map out the range of Yamato's cell phone plan. If we can determine the areas where it doesn't work we'll have greatly lowered our possible locations."

"That's brilliant, Koushiro," says Sora.

"After that, I'll run some tests on various places in the digital world and see if I can pinpoint specific loci containing unusual amounts of energy."

"I have a good nose," Agumon offers. "If we've got a bunch of places to search, I can try to sniff out Gabumon's scent."

"Great," says Taichi, obviously stepping up to the leader role as always. "It's really important we find Yamato as soon as possible, because he's hurt and lonely - and likely to go off and do something stupid."

"Are you sure you're not just thinking of what you'd do in his situation, Taichi?" asks Agumon.

Tai whacks him friendlily. "Oh, shut it, you. But we also have to find out what's going on with Gabumon before his situation gets worse."

"If it hasn't already," Koushiro adds gravely.

"And we have to find out what's using all that energy. If we bring Imperialdramon into the real world, we'll be able to find Yamato faster," Taichi says. "We need to split up. Anyone whose digimon's got a good nose comes with me and Agumon to the Digiworld, and everyone else will have to help Daisuke and Ken."

"I'll stay here," Koushiro suggests. "That way I can convey messages between everyone and keep an eye on the digital world from my computer."

"Of course," Taichi agrees. "Let's do it."

Koushiro smiles. Some things never change.


	5. Unfit For Cohabitation

_There._ It's clean.

Yamato grins, exhilarated, as he looks around his sparkling white but frighteningly empty home.

The exhilaration of the moment fades, however, as he begins to contemplate what to do next. The nearest town to him in Shimane is no tourist town. It has a severe lack of hip furniture stores or even antique shops, but there's a small possibility he can find something to buy. And it is absolutely essential that he populate his house with stuff.

Yamato grabs his keys and wallet and heads out the door.

His house. Yamato considers this for a moment. It's not strictly his, per se, it's his and Takeru's. He feels guilty for grabbing possession of it like this, and without even asking or telling his brother, but all he wants is another chance, and he wants to take it alone, and if he wants this to happen not even Takeru can know where he is.

It's possible that Takeru would have kept his secret, at least for a while, but Yamato knows that despite appearances Hikari is the dominant one in that relationship, and secrets between them don't last. And Hikari is Taichi's sister, and so that's that, and Yamato tells no one.

In an ideal world he would have at least brought Gabumon. God, he wishes he could have. But that's more out of the question than telling Takeru. Digimon need to visit the Digital World about once a week to regain energy, and Yamato doesn't have a computer out here. Even if he did, the energy discharge that occurs when a port is opened would allow Koushiro to immediately locate him.

Yamato sighs. He's broken contact with absolutely everyone in his life, and it's frightening. Everything is new and unfamiliar. It's what he wants, though, to start over completely, and it's not as if he's hurting any of his friends or family by leaving them, not permanently anyway. They don't need him anymore. Sure, they'll worry at first, but after a while the daily routine will set back in and his absence will be filled with mundanities like doing the laundry and running to the grocery store for more milk.

He parks his car a little out of town and walks the rest of the way. There is an almost fall-like crispness to the air, which is decidedly strange because it's still spring, but it makes the walk pleasantly cool.

The streets are lined with food vendors, everything from noodle shops to bakeries to candy stores. There's a shop selling manga and books on the corner but other than that Yamato can't see, hear or smell anything but cooking food. The townspeople must buy everything else in another town, he surmises, because they certainly don't get their dinner tables and televisions around here.

"Noodle shop, noodle shop, grocer's," he mutters as he walks down the street, reading the signs aloud, "fishmonger, pharmacy, candy store . . . tropical fish?"

He goggles in amazement. There, nestled between a candy store and yet another noodle shop, is a tiny darkened store with a sign overhead announcing simply "Tropical Fish" in large black letters. A yellow angelfish is painted on the window.

Yamato shakes his head, disbelieving. How in hell does a tropical fish store stay in business in such a tiny town in Shimane? Maybe they're not pets, but some sort of rare delicacy.

Too intrigued to continue walking, Yamato walks over and pulls the door open.

To his even greater surprise, the shop is fairly busy. Several old couples are huddled together, backs bent, hands clasped and eyes shining, studying quietly the undersea world that has so unexpectedly been transported to their tiny town, just in time for the end of their lives. Small children stand on their tiptoes, peering into the mysterious blue depths of the tanks excitedly and whispering among themselves. Harassed-looking parents make their way between children and grandparents frantically, barely noticing the fish adorning the walls.

Yamato wanders row after row of tanks absently. The fish shine under the fluorescent lights as they swim around, little glimmering darts of motion. One particularly big tank contains a large, frowning grouper. Yamato frowns back at it.

There's something intrinsically soothing about fish, he reflects, resuming his wandering. There's something about the quiet stillness of their watery world, the intensity of their wide stares, that just calms the mind. It's almost as if you can forget yourself into aquatic paradise . . . .

Yamato makes up his mind right then. He wants a fish.

The man behind the counter looks at him skeptically when Yamato approaches him. "Just one?"

Yamato considers. He doesn't want fleets of fish - he has a feeling that would only exacerbate his loneliness. He wants a fish as alone as he is, so that they'll be each other's only company. Their sole solace. "That's right," he tells the salesman firmly.

"Then what you need is a betta."

The man points to a wall near the front lined with tiny plastic containers. In each sits a solitary fish.

Yamato walks over and peers into the cups. The fish look as if living in such tight quarters is really getting them down. Their fins droop, their mouths tug down at the corners, and they are mostly stationary. Despite their vibrant colors, they are a truly depressing sight.

"Why do you keep them in these things?" he calls back to the salesman.

The man comes to stand next to Yamato. "These are Siamese fighting fish. You put two of the males into the same tank, they'll kill each other. They're unfit for cohabitation."

"Huh," says Yamato.

"They also don't need to be in a tank with a filter. They breathe air from the surface, you see. Cuts down cost significantly," the man adds, somewhat unnecessarily. Yamato is already sold.

Unfit for cohabitation - just like he is.

Perfect.

"I'll take one," Yamato declares.

"I'll be at the counter," the man grunts in reply. "Whenever you're ready."

Yamato deliberates over the fish carefully. They come in many shades of red and blue and there's even a sort of ugly brownish gold one he likes because it stands out. He's considering the possibility of a fiery orange fish with particularly beady eyes when he spots the one.

The fish appears agitated, staring attentively at the large red male in the bowl next to its own. Its fins are fully extended, its little body rigid. The colors are magnificent, quite unlike any of the other fish around it. It's neither red nor blue but somewhere in between, not purple but a bright fuschia, and its scales shimmer gold in the light. It's somehow more alive than the others, and though this isn't a quality Yamato was looking for, it's an appealing quality nonetheless.

Yamato smiles and flicks his finger against the fish's plastic house. The fish immediately snaps around to glare at him with alert eyes. He chuckles.

"Well, aren't you a feisty one," he says, amused, and it's not a question. He picks up the fish, grabs the requisite supplies and makes his way back to the counter.

"Good choice," says the man at the counter. "This one's got pretty unusual coloring."

Yamato beams.

"Whatcha going to name it?" the man asks.

Yamato blinks. "I hadn't thought about it," he confesses. After all, he's only just seen the thing.

"Well, you've got to give it a name," the man reproaches him. "That purple and gold reminds me of fire. Maybe you should name him after that god. You know, Izanami's son . . . what's-his-name."

"Kagututi?" Yamato offers skeptically.

"That's the one," the man says, staring at Yamato expectantly. Oh god, he's not going to get out of here until he names the damn thing, is he.

"That's a great idea," he says in a falsely enthusiastic voice. "I could call him Kagu for short."

"There you go," says the man triumphantly, and rings him up without another word.

Walking out of the store, Yamato can't help but feel a little embarrassed by his purchase. What in the world does he need a fish for? And why would he think that he, of all people, is capable or responsible enough to take the life of another creature into his foolish, inexperienced hands?

Oh god, he's going to wake up to find the poor thing floating upside down at the top of its bowl tomorrow morning.

He sighs. Maybe this is how his parents felt when they brought him home from the hospital.

In any case, it's too late now. The fish is his. His to love, his to hate, his to nurture or kill.

Yamato feels no sense of power, just an enormous burden and a sense of sadness and regret so large it's stifling. Is this what God feels like? He remembers reading this somewhere: "Be _not_ like me. I am alone," and it's good advice from a flawed God to his more flawed creation, so he whispers it to Kagu before he realizes what he's doing and before he realizes he's accidentally adopted the salesman's name for the fish.

I'm talking to a fish, he thinks to himself wryly. I'm talking to a fish named after a fire god. This is a _great_ way to start a new life.

* * *

There are about a hundred _million_ things Taichi would rather be doing right now, and most of them involve Yamato.

For example, he'd like to find the stupid, difficult moron and punch some sense straight into his brain, the self-absorbed _fuck._ You wouldn't think you could be _half_ as arrogant as Yamato and remain convinced that no one could ever possibly love you but somehow Yamato pulls it off, Yamato the walking contradiction, the bundled bag of frazzled neurons, the incredibly volatile, idiotic combination of self-loathing and self-pity, the lonely loner, the self-defaming rock star. The boy who spends half the time isolating himself and then turns around making unreasonable demands for affection from the very people he's shut out.

Taichi unconsciously clenches his teeth as he becomes lost in his thoughts. Yamato is the most selfish person he's ever met, by a long shot. Not only is he so obsessed with his self-hatred that he doesn't notice that Taichi and Sora do, in actuality, care for him pretty damn deeply, he left, and as far as Taichi is concerned leaving people who love you is about as selfish as you can get. Even if Yamato had some legitimate reason to think that he and Sora love each other and not him, there's still Takeru and Yamato's parents, and Taichi has been friends with Yamato for long enough to know that, even with their problems, his parents love him more than anything, and Takeru of course absolutely worships his older brother. Yamato knows this too, that's what's so frustrating to Taichi. He can't understand how anyone could abandon his family like that. Especially Yamato, who, despite appearances, really does care about them, more than any casual observer could imagine.

Yamato's problem is that he feels too much, Taichi decides. Or is it that he's afraid of feeling too much? Probably both. In real life all the multiple choice questions are answered 'all of the above.' Yamato is afraid of feeling and so he pushes it away to the back of his mind where it swells and swells and threatens to engulf him, and it must be terrifying to feel that way. Taichi knows how that kind of thing is, he's got plenty of experience in the way of unwanted emotions. It's why they get along. It's also why they fought so much in the Digiworld - their feelings are enormous, like dark, thick rain clouds on the brink of releasing a heavy thunderstorm.

Taichi scowls. At least _he_ acknowledges his feelings. Stupid Yamato.

The irony of love is that, as much as Taichi wants to punch Yamato, he also wants to kiss him so fiercely he'll get some sense knocked into him, or so gently that he could never tell himself he was unloved ever again. He wants to shake the card house of Yamato's insecurities until it all comes tumbling down. He wants to comfort him, scream at him, apologize to him - the list is never-ending.

But mostly Taichi just wants to cry.

Considering his current location, he doesn't think he will.

He stops pacing, faces the others and sets his face into its most determined look.

"Okay, first order of business - if _any_ of you ever decide to run off like this, which I certainly hope you never do, you do _not_ leave without giving us a way to contact you. I don't care how fucked up you're feeling, just tell _someone_ where you are so we can avoid this situation again."

Everyone nods, looking nervous at his vehemence.

"Good. Now to work. Anyone whose Digimon's got a good nose over here with me. Anyone else, go with Daisuke and Ken."

In the sudden bustle of movement, Taichi almost misses Takeru's question.

"Shouldn't someone with a good nose go with Daisuke and Ken? To sniff out Yamato?"

"I want to come with you!" Miyako's voice rises easily out of the crowd.

Taichi sighs. Does no one respect leadership anymore?

"Go," he says, catching Takeru's eyes. He turns to Miyako.

"Don't you want to go with Ken?" he asks her gently.

Miyako scowls. "Why does everyone expect me to follow him around like some enamored schoolgirl? I want to be useful!"

You are an enamored schoolgirl, Taichi thinks. But he understands where she's coming from. "And how could you help if you came with us?"

"You need someone with good eyes," says Miyako firmly. "And Hawkmon's got the best eyes of all the Digimon. He can fly up and check for Gabumon from above."

Taichi nods. What Miyako says does make sense, and he's not going to force her to go with her boyfriend if she doesn't want to. Who knows, they might be fighting, although Taichi's pretty sure she's just undergoing the self-confidence dive that comes from dating a genius like Ken. He imagines it must be a lot like having a famous rock star for a best friend.

"You're in," he says, and Miyako squeals with delight. He looks over his tiny rag-tag group critically. There's Miyako and Hawkmon, Hikari and Tailmon, Jyou and Gomamon, and Agumon and himself. Oh, and Tentomon, whose link with Koushiro will make it easier to keep in contact with the others. It's not much to work with, but at least Hikari and Miyako are jogress partners so in a pinch they'll have two ultimates and a mega. Hopefully they won't have to digivolve though. This is just a scout group, after all. The fighting should come after they find Yamato.

Taichi reminds himself to thank Koushiro again after this is all over. Koushiro's years of research in the digital world have more than paid off, as he has since developed new crests and digivices for the original Digidestined, allowing their partners to digivolve to their ultimate and mega forms again. This had at first been met with some resistance on the part of some of the other Digidestined, who felt that this sort of messing around with the Digiworld was not their place. But, as Hikari had put it, when Gennai and his group made the digivices, they'd given them a duty to protect the digital world, and they were doing nothing more than carrying out this charge.

Taichi fondly looks over at his sister, at once wise beyond her years and still a child. Well, most people wouldn't call her a child anymore - she is nineteen, after all, married and starting college, but she'll always be a child to Taichi.

Catching his glance, Hikari steps up to him, her expression serious, and clasps both of his hands in one gentle motion. Her hands seem delicate and almost frail in his, and he stares down at them in consternation.

"Taichi," she says softly. "Don't worry."

"I'm not," he says just as softly, the contradiction slipping past his lips before he has time to actually consider it.

"You are," Hikari asserts. "But don't."

Taichi watches her step back into line with their other two companions. Is he worried?

Of course he is. But Hikari's right, he can't. Courage takes an acknowledgment of risk, certainly, but after that it requires reckless dismissal of it.

"You guys ready?"

"Ready for almost certain death? Never," Jyou replies immediately, mostly joking.

Taichi grins. Same old reliable Jyou.

"Digiport open!" Miyako yells, pointing her D3 at the computer.

"Miyako, it's already open," Hikari says, putting her hand on the other girl's shoulder and stifling a giggle. A blush makes its speckled way across Miyako's face.

"Good luck, you guys!" Koushiro calls just before they're sucked into another world.

Sometimes someone who's never been to the digital world will ask Taichi what traveling through a digiport feels like. To be honest, it doesn't feel like much. It reminds him a little of looking at a picture for a long time, and then blinking, and suddenly seeing something you hadn't before. Like a re-alignment, and suddenly you find you're in a different place.

The colors are brighter in the Digiworld. It's as if there's a whole new spectrum, and it hurts human eyes at first glance.

The Digiworld, with its bright, multicolored array of jungle-like plant life, sometimes seems like a parody, an over-exaggerated estimation of what primitive Earth must have been like. The intensity of the sun and the depths of the shadows only serve to aggrandize that feeling, as do the giant monsters lurking around every corner. How ironic that such a world was born of technology.

Taichi shakes himself out of his reverie.

"All right, let's get moving."

* * *


	6. The Abyss Gazes Also

_For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you._  
_-Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

Imperialdramon stands erect in the wide expanse of nothingness that is Texas. In between the distant mountains on one horizon and the faint glimmer of faraway buildings on the other is nothing more than dirt and rocks and the wind that stirs them from the ground, howling hungrily.

"I don't think he's here," says Digmon, breaking the silence that has descended upon the group.

"Yeah," Mimi agrees, a look of disgust crossing her pretty face as she scans the landscape skeptically. "What would Yamato be doing in this wasteland anyway?"

Takeru's face is set determinedly. "I still think we should cruise the area and check. There might be some tiny town that we can't see from here."

Daisuke snorts. "No way, Takeru. This place is so empty we'd be able to see Yamato if he was anywhere in the next ten miles."

Takeru can feel his throat closing up and something in him snaps.

"You're just being lazy," he accuses, his voice ascending rapidly, "you don't care if we find Yamato!"

"Takeru!" Patamon cries.

"That's not true!"

"Please stop fighting!" Piyomon steps in.

"Takeru's right," Ken speaks up quietly. The others shut up and turn to look at him hopefully; the boy is both quiet and stunningly intelligent, a combination that means when Ken speaks, everyone listens.

"Aw, man!" Daisuke exclaims, crossing his arms. Takeru can't help a smug grin, his anger fading at Daisuke's actions.

"Even if we can, hypothetically, see for ten miles in all directions, we wouldn't necessarily be able to spot Yamato. This is a large out-of-service area, spanning about one hundred square miles. I suggest we carry out a fly over, just to make sure."

"It's a good point, Ken," Sora speaks up slowly, "but . . . I think we need to start making more educated guesses after this. There's not a lot of reasons Yamato would come to Texas, and if there's some place that might be more meaningful to him we should search there first."

Daisuke charges ahead as always, swinging himself onto Imperialdramon's back. "What are you guys waiting for? Come on!"

* * *

Yamato has set up a chair opposite his fish's bowl. At first he'd watched the fish's movements with interest but now his gaze is unfocused, his pupils wide.

He's swimming in memories.

He remembers once upon a time he was young and small in this house. He remembers his grandmother's kind smile and the folds of wrinkles on her face. How high even the walls had seemed back then. If he looks closely, will he see tiny handprints written in the dust?

To his horror, Yamato finds there's something tight and painful clutching its large, desperate claws at his chest. I am not going to cry, he tells himself, I am _not_ going to cry.

Unbidden, a distant memory of going to temple with his grandmother rises to the surface of his mind, and Yamato can't help it - he bursts out sobbing.

* * *

Koushiro yawns. It's a time of crisis, sure, but at the moment there's a lull in the action. Neither Daisuke nor Taichi have called for about twenty minutes now, and Tentomon hasn't said anything for ten.

He pulls up the energy chart again. No change. Giant surges of electricity are still disappearing off into nowhere.

Unable to suppress another yawn, Koushiro casually reaches under his desk and opens his miniature refrigerator, fully equipped with snacks and drinks for emergency can't-leave-the-computer situations. An extra refrigerator may seem extraneous to some, but for Koushiro these kinds of situations are far too common occurrences, and so it's either the refrigerator or starving to death.

He pulls out a generic energy drink and pops the lid, careful not to spill any on his precious keyboard. These things are basically syrup, and they're sticky as hell.

" _Koushiro!_ " cries Taichi's voice suddenly, and Koushiro fumbles the drink. It slips out of his hands momentarily, but he manages to catch it at the last moment.

"I'm here," he snaps, annoyed to find that a few drops of his drink have, in fact, found their way onto his keyboard.

"Check the area we're in," Taichi replies curtly.

* * *

In another world, Taichi waits impatiently for Koushiro's prognosis. He and the others are crouched behind some truly impenetrably thick shrubbery, peering out at a quite unexpected castle. According to Agumon and Hawkmon, this area had been undeveloped as of yesterday. And now this, this castle made of large gray stones, each at least as tall as he is.

Surprisingly, there are no Bakemon patrolling the edges, as there usually are with these evil Digimon types. In fact, there's nothing to be seen patrolling the castle at all. It makes Taichi nervous. Bakemon he can deal with, but the unknown is much more frightening.

There's got to be some sort of security on a castle as grandiose as this one, he reasons, frowning. But what?

"Look!" Gomamon cries out, pointing one extremely long claw towards the left side of the castle. Taichi follows his paw and gasps. A giant rock is slowing lifting itself up the side of the building. As they watch, it ascends past the north tower and carefully lowers itself into an empty spot at the top.

"What in hell . . . " Taichi breathes.

"Okay, this is freaky. Can we get out of here now?" Jyou says pleadingly.

"Jyou! We can't just leave - " Miyako starts angrily.

"Yes, we can," Jyou interrupts her. "We can go back to Koushiro's and wait for the others and then come back when we're actually _prepared._ "

"We won't be prepared if we don't know what we're facing," Tailmon tells him sternly.

"Taichi?" Koushiro's voice is tinny and small.

"Koushiro!" Taichi exclaims. "Well?"

"Be careful!" Koushiro warns. "The region you're in is in fact the one we're seeking. It's sucking in about a hundred watts of electricity per second. Can you see anything usual?"

"Yeah, a castle," Hikari answers from behind Taichi. "And a big one, too."

"We're going to try to sneak in," Taichi tells Koushiro. "To see if we can see anything."

"Okay," says Koushiro, sounding worried, "but please stay out of sight. And be _careful_."

"Oh, we will be," Jyou mutters under his breath, "if I have anything to do with it."

* * *

To his extreme annoyance, Yamato's sobs aren't desisting. They're growing louder and louder, more and more painful, as his most hidden feelings and memories finally surface themselves:

His mother determinedly not looking back as she and Takeru pull away from their apartment building for the last time, tear trails visible on Takeru's tiny face in the rear window. . .

His grandmother's ashes scattering in the wind . . .

The look on Gabumon's face as Yamato returns to the real world, leaving him behind . . .

A young Taichi turning his back on Yamato . . .

Sora's pretty face, shining with pity . . .

The feeling of loneliness that envelops him as Takeru and Hikari kiss chastely, the wedding congregation behind them erupting into an uproarious cheer . . .

Coming home to an empty answering machine and realizing that Taichi hasn't returned his calls again . . .

Searching through piles and piles of chocolates on Valentine's day only to find that none of them are from people he knows, and not a single one means anything at all . . .

How quickly the other Digidestined turn against him when he attacks them in the Digiworld. . .

Taichi's angry face, right before a punch in the gut . . .

Takeru standing up against Myotismon, his little face scrunched up in determination, Yamato proud and yet still somehow betrayed . . .

And finally, from the recesses of Yamato's imagination, Taichi and Sora gazing into each other's eyes, loving, adoring, completely absorbed in one another.

Yamato's feelings of futility and sorrow swell even more, his crying now somewhere way past hysterical.

* * *

"Grandpère?"

Takeru is rushed and worried, but his French is still impeccable.

"Grandpère, c'est moi, Takeru - "

Sora can hear the old man's excitement from where she stands several feet away. His voice is exuberant but static-y over the phone, and from Takeru's wince she deduces that the old man is talking quite loudly.

"Grandpère, s'il-vous-plaît, m'entendez-vous! Avez-vous vu Yamato récemment?"

There is a pause. Takeru's grandfather must have lowered his voice, because Sora can no longer hear his side of the conversation.

"Non? A-t-il vous telephoné?"

Pause.

"Parce qu'il a disparu. Sora et lui, ils avaient rompu."

Pause. Sora feels a quick stab of guilt at the mention of her name.

"Oui, je suis d'accord. Il _est_ probable qu'il revenira, à la fin. Mais nous avons besoin de lui trouver trés bientôt. Il y a un problème dans le Digiworld."

Pause.

"Nous pensons qu'il eusse été dans le sud de France."

Pause.

"D'accord, je comprends. Merci, Grandpère. Je vous telephonerai quand nous lui trouvons. À bientôt."

Takeru hangs up the phone, looking upset. "No luck."

"He still might be in France," Iori points out. "Just because he didn't call your grandfather doesn't mean he didn't come here."

"That's right," pipes up Piyomon. "He probably wouldn't have called your grandfather, knowing that he'd call you or your parents if he knew. But France still has sentimental value to Yamato."

"I think there's something highly unlikely about the way we're going about this," says Ken matter-of-factly. "I mean, we're looking at it as if Yamato had this in front of him when he left." He holds up the map Koushiro gave them of the out-of-service areas of Yamato's phone.

"I seriously doubt he did any such thing. I'm sure that the fact that his phone doesn't work, wherever he is, is just a fortunate coincidence for Yamato."

"And an unfortunate one for us," Mimi adds.

"So what?" Daisuke says.

"So I doubt he's in the south of France. After all, the only part of France that has any meaning for Yamato and Takeru is Paris, where their grandfather lives."

"Takeru?" Patamon inquires gently.

"Ken's right," Takeru confirms. "I've been to Provence with Mom and Grandpère, but Yamato hasn't been out of Paris before. There's no reason for him to go to that region except that it's the only part of France that's out of his cell phone range."

Daisuke grabs the map from Ken. "So where else is important to Yamato?"

"He's come to visit me in New York quite a few times," Mimi suggests. "While he was on tour in the states."

"I have a feeling New York's covered," Palmon says dryly from her side.

"Sora, did he ever say anything about particular places he went on tour?" Takeru asks her.

Sora chuckles. "He always absolutely hated Los Angeles."

Takeru nods. "He told me that, too."

"It wouldn't be unlike him to punish himself by going somewhere he didn't actually like," Sora reasons, looking at Takeru hopefully.

But Daisuke, holding the map, says, "Covered," and that's the end of that train of thought.

"All the major U.S. cities are covered," Ken adds from beside him. "International ones, too."

"All the places Yamato toured, basically," Takeru mutters.

Daisuke places his index finger over Japan. "Takeru, is there any reason why Yamato would be anywhere in western Japan? 'Cause there are some mountains here out of service range."

Takeru stares incredulously at Daisuke for a minute, then collapses into a helpless heap onto the ground. "Oh my god," he says in a tiny voice.

"What? What did I say?"

Takeru doesn't speak for another couple seconds. When he does, he's not looking at any of them but at a spot a little in front of his face. His voice is distant.

"Yamato and I own a house in Shimane."

There's a moment of stunned silence.

"And when were you going to bring that up?" Iori says sarcastically.

"I honestly didn't think of it," says Takeru sheepishly. "Our grandmother left it to us when she passed away, and neither of us have ever used it, or even talked about using it. We kind of had this mutual agreement that we wanted nothing to do with it."

"Why?" Mimi asks, flabbergasted.

"It's too sad." Takeru blinks slowly. "Everything about that house would remind us of her."

"Do you think he's there?" Ken asks Takeru seriously.

"Yes."

Everyone looks at Sora, who is as surprised as the rest at her outburst. She looks down at her feet, thinking. "Yamato likes to either pretend everything's okay or wallow, and . . . he left because he didn't want to pretend with me anymore. So - so it makes sense that he would go there."

"But wouldn't he have told Takeru?" Piyomon asks. "Since the house belongs to both of them?"

Takeru sighs. "He would have wanted to, I think. But Yamato is capable of justifying anything if he wants to run away, and he wouldn't have wanted anyone to know where he is."

"So you think he's in Shimane, too?" Daisuke asks.

"I'm sure of it," Takeru says firmly.

The brief silence that follows is broken by Imperialdramon's low growl. "Now what?"

"Now that we know where he is, we should split up again." Takeru says. "I'll get Yamato, and the rest of you go back to Koushiro's and join Taichi and the others in the Digiworld."

"You mean you and me and Ken will go get Yamato," Daisuke corrects. "How do you think you're gonna get there?"

Takeru sighs again. "Fine. Let's just go."

* * *

The castle is surprisingly empty. The echoes of their footsteps through the halls ricochet back and forth loudly. Taichi finds that he's holding his breath. He knows something's got to be aware of their presence, and he's sure that, any moment now, some large Digimon will come charging down the halls before they have a chance to react.

He jumps about three feet when Agumon pulls on his shirt.

"Taichi," Agumon is whispering, "Taichi, I can smell Gabumon."

Taichi whips around at alarming speed. " _Where?_ " he hisses.

Agumon points down a corridor that is far more brightly lit than the others.

"Lead the way, my friend," Taichi whispers. Agumon does, tilting his great yellow head from side to side and sniffing the air experimentally.

They end up going straight down the corridor, bypassing all possible turns, and stopping at the wall at the end.

Agumon looks around, confused. "The smell is strongest here," he explains.

"There's no door," Miyako wails as loudly as it is possible to wail while still whispering.

"Wait," says Hikari, a strange look on her face. She steps closer to the wall slowly, peering at it with that odd intensity that only she can really pull off, before pressing one hand against it experimentally.

It begins to glow.

Taichi blinks.

Hikari carefully peels her hand off. Underneath, carved into the wall in what looks like pure sunshine itself, is the crest of light.

"What in the world . . . ." Jyou breathes, echoing all of their sentiments.

As they watch, something even more extraordinary happens. Slowly, slowly, the light begins to spread across the entire wall until it's awash in bright yellow. The nine of them shield their eyes and squint, stepping back.

"Look," whispers Tailmon in wonderment. Shining through with more intensity than the rest of the wall is the crest of light, and surrounding it are more crests.

"There's one for every one of us," says Hikari softly. And she's right. The crests of hope and kindness are there next to hers, and there are two of every other crest.

Miyako reaches out and presses her hand lightly where the twin crests of love and purity meet. They glow more intensely for a moment and then fade.

"I think it's a door," she says, unusually quiet. "I think if you depress all of these symbols at the same time it'll open."

Jyou frowns and very carefully touches Mimi's crest of purity, but nothing happens. "If that's the case, we'll need everyone here to open it."

"That sounds like a trap," Gomamon says darkly.

Taichi is liking this less and less every minute. "With Gabumon as bait."

"Why Gabumon?" Hawkmon asks after a slight pause.

"He may have been the only one of us in the Digiworld at the time," says Tentomon. "It doesn't really matter who they used. Any one of us could easily have been the bait."

"But why? Why do they want us here?" Miyako asks uneasily.

"To get us out of the way," Jyou replies, his mouth set in a grim line. "Of course."

"So what are we going to do?" Gomamon asks the obvious question.

"We're going to set off the trap," Taichi says, and they know from his tone there's no use arguing.

* * *

Yamato stares at his face in the mirror. His eyes are still noticeably red, but other than that the signs of his breakdown have faded. He sighs, half out of relief and half out of frustration with his own weakness. Still, he feels a little bit better now that he's cried some of those feelings out.

And he's all the more convinced he made the right choice in leaving Odaiba. He has several years worth of emotions to work through and that certainly hadn't been getting done there.

Yamato smiles grimly at his reflection. As he's turning to leave the bathroom, a knock comes at the door.

Assuming it's a neighbor, Yamato makes his way to the door unconcernedly.

He opens it to find Takeru glaring stonily at him.

"Umm," he says intelligently, "hi."

Apparently that's all it takes to set Takeru off.

" _What in the world were you thinking?!_ " Takeru yells in a manner most uncharacteristic of him. Yamato takes a step back, surprised and a little afraid.

"Takeru - "

"How could you possibly leave like that without telling anyone where you went?" his brother continues, his face red and contorted in anger. "Did you even think about what that would do to your family?"

Yamato just stares at him. Takeru plows on, unconcerned, "Dad is out of his mind, you know, and Mom's crying, and Grandpère's been using that really quiet voice again, the one he used after Grandma died, and it's all because you didn't care enough to tell us anything!"

"That's not true, I - "

"And to top it off, _you turned off your digivice!_ You turned off your digivice, and then all this stuff in the Digiworld, and you should have _seen_ Taichi, pacing back and forth like that, he was _scary_ , and Gabumon's gone, and no one knows what's going on, and you had to go and run off just because you felt sorry for yourself - "

"Gabumon's gone?" Yamato says, his voice low.

Takeru stops.

"Yeah," he says.

Yamato clenches his hands into fists unconsciously. "Oh god," he says.

"Yeah," says Takeru again. Then he pulls Yamato into a swift one-armed hug. "Listen," he says, "I was _worried_ about you, you stupid sod."

Yamato's eyes begin to water dangerously again as he hugs his brother back. "Takeru, I'm sorry - "

"I know," Takeru says gruffly, pulling back. "Now let's go sort out this Digiworld nonsense.


	7. Mined

"We're walking into a trap?" Sora says flatly. She and the others are gathered in Koushiro's apartment again, waiting for Takeru, Ken and Daisuke to return with Yamato.

"What else are we supposed to do?" says Miyako, looking grumpy. "There wasn't a single Digimon in the entire place. The only thing we've got to go on is Gabumon's scent."

"Yeah, and I'm sure whoever set the trap made sure to make it that way," Sora returns.

"Do you have a suggestion, Sora?" Taichi asks, looking exasperated.

"No," she admits. "I just don't like this. It's too neat."

Taichi nods. "It is. But we're going in anyway."

An almost contemplative silence falls over the group, broken only by the constant tap of Koushiro's fingers on his keyboard.

"It's never this quiet when Daisuke's here," Tailmon points out, and the others laugh good-naturedly. This seems to break the mood, and everyone falls to chatting among themselves.

Sora studies Taichi quietly. His face is set in the same expression of determination and courage as it always was, back during that first trip to the Digiworld, but there's a strain there, so slight that you wouldn't notice it if you weren't looking, and he's holding himself with far more tension than his loose body usually holds. So she steps closer to him and rests a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Taichi turns and flashes her a quick smile, but it's not quite genuine. Sora gives him one of her own small sad ones in return. It's not that Taichi can't hide his emotions, but if you know what you're looking for he's easier to read than a picture book.

"Okay," says Koushiro suddenly. The entire room shifts to look at him. "This may sound obvious, but what we need to do is try to determine the source of this Digimon's power."

"I thought electricity was the source of its power?" says Tentomon, confused.

"Well, yes. What I mean is, we need to determine what exactly is absorbing that electricity into the digital world. If we can destroy that, our enemy will be greatly weakened."

"How do we find it?" Hikari asks.

"I can track it with my computer," Koushiro replies, 'but it will take a while."

"We'll probably find it inadvertently anyway when we set off this stupid trap," says Jyou. Everyone looks at him for clarification, and Jyou makes a face. "What? It's true! Evil Digimon aren't very subtle, you know. There's probably some giant evil-looking central base where the power is housed and where this new Digimon is, and I'll bet you anything that's where he's keeping Gabumon."

Sora blinks. It's a good point.

"Oh, it's automatically a he, is it," Mimi says jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, but even her smile is strained.

Just then the door opens and Daisuke flies in, dragging a reluctant-looking Ken behind him. Veemon and Wormmon enter in similar fashion. Yamato himself follows, very carefully not looking at anyone. Sora feels Taichi stiffen next to her and she squeezes his shoulder with the hand that's still resting there. Patamon flaps in and Takeru comes last, gently closing the door behind him.

"We're here!" Daisuke exclaims, striking a pose in typical Daisuke fashion. "Did you miss us?"

"Not you, we didn't," Miyako replies as she goes to stand beside Ken. But she ruffles Daisuke's hair as she passes, revealing an easy affection.

"Hey!" Daisuke protests, trying to get his spikes back into place. "You messed it up!"

"How is it even possible to mess up that - that _mess_?" Mimi asks, wrinkling up her nose at Daisuke's hairstyle, or lack thereof. Palmon giggles and Sora hides a smile behind her hand.

"Hi, Yamato," says Taichi, very quietly. The entire room tenses, looking at Yamato expectantly. Agumon takes a step closer to his partner, almost protectively.

Yamato lifts his head and looks straight at Taichi. Then his eyes fall onto Sora's hand, still resting on Taichi's shoulder, and he looks away again, his face more angry than hurt, his arms crossed. Takeru scowls in Taichi and Sora's direction, every inch the overprotective younger brother.

Sora starts to lift her hand away guiltily, but Taichi frowns at her. "Leave it," he says in an undertone.

"Okay, now that we're all finally here," he says, facing the group. Sora winces. That last comment is barbed, obviously directed at Yamato.

She glances over at Yamato to gauge his reaction. His face is pale, but he's glaring at Taichi with vigor.

Boys are stupid, she thinks, exasperated. What a mess this is.

"Let's get this over with," Taichi continues, throwing one nasty, annoyed look at Yamato before pulling out his digivice.

In the Digiworld, everyone recollects themselves nervously.

"The castle's over here," says Tailmon, pointing to the east. She and Hawkmon lead the way, Taichi and Agumon close behind. It's a quiet expedition, to be sure, everyone just following wordlessly.

Sora pauses. Piyomon runs into the back of her legs. "Watch where you're going!" her Digimon admonishes.

"Sorry," she says, still thinking. Behind her, Jyou and Mimi are having a whispered yet upbeat conversation.

"Just like old times, huh?" Sora can hear Jyou's smile in his voice.

"Yep," Mimi responds cheerfully. "Taichi and Yamato are even fighting again!"

After a pause, she adds, "And my feet hurt." The two laugh good-naturedly, and Sora smiles along with them.

After another moment's thought, she doubles back to talk to Yamato, who is bringing up the rear with Takeru and Patamon.

"Yamato," she says quietly.

"Go away," he says immediately, his eyes boring harshly into her own.

"Yamato, I - "

"Go. Away."

"No, I won't. I - "

"I don't want to hear it. Now get lost."

Sora sighs and jogs back up to her spot in line reluctantly. Things are worse than she'd thought.

They climb over a grassy knoll and suddenly, there it is.

The castle is huge. It looks as if it was made for something much larger than humans. Sora imagines it's almost as big as the castle in the sky from the Jack and the Beanstalk story.

"That must be one giant Digimon," says Iori from behind her, echoing her thoughts.

They stare in wordless wonder and apprehension for a minute longer before making their way across the castle's drawbridge.

"The drawbridge and moat . . . " mutters Gomamon. Sora barely hears him.

"What about them?" Jyou asks his Digimon softly.

"They weren't here earlier," Gomamon replies.

In front of Sora, Koushiro turns around with interest. "You're saying the castle is still being added to?"

"Yep," Miyako adds in, "when we were here before, there were stones hoisting themselves to the top."

"Interesting," Koushiro says. "Hoisting themselves?"

"We didn't tell you?" says Jyou, looking abashed.

"They were floating," Hawkmon explains.

"That partially explains why all this energy is needed," Koushiro mutters. "To build this castle. But who and why still remains to be seen."

"And how," Tentomon adds helpfully.

Taichi opens the giant double doors and ushers them all in. Sora notices that his eyes linger on Yamato for a minute before he turns away huffily.

"This way," calls Agumon, his giant nose already sniffing away.

They make their way down corridor after long dusty corridor until they reach a plain-looking wall.

"This is it," Agumon says.

Everyone stares skeptically at him.

Hikari steps to the front of the group and presses one stone with the palm of her hand. Sora watches as a normal stone wall is transformed into the glowing door that the others had described.

"Everyone, find your crests," Taichi instructs. They fall into place, Sora, ironically enough, standing between Yamato and Taichi. "On the count of three. One. Two. Three!"

The crests burst into vibrant life, so bright that they are all forced to stand back and shield their eyes from the glare. When they turn back, the wall is gone.

"Gabumon!" shouts Yamato, running into the newly exposed room. It's the first thing he's said in front of the group so far.

Sora stares. The room is an enormous chamber, the ceiling so far over their heads it's almost out of sight. Beams of sunlight stream in from high windows, but the main source of light comes from within the room. The walls are entirely covered with symbols and all of them are awash in the same yellow glow as the crests were.

In the very center of the room, Gabumon is crumpled on the floor, unconscious. Yamato is already beside him, gathering his partner in his arms gently, sorrowfully.

"Gabumon," he's muttering, "wake up, buddy. Gabumon. Gabumon."

"Koushiro, what's written on the walls?" Taichi asks in his most businesslike tone as Jyou steps determinedly up to Yamato and Gabumon, his face falling into its professional-looking doctor expression.

"I don't know," Koushiro replies. "Some of it's kanji - see over there, that's the symbol for change, and over there's transport."

"They're mostly verbs," Ken observes, turning to look at each wall. "But what are the rest of these symbols?"

"That's Greek," says Takeru suddenly, pointing at a spot high above them on the opposite wall. "There's alpha, and there's lambda, and there's a couple in between I can't remember."

"How do you know Greek, Takeru?" Daisuke asks, looking vaguely threatened by Takeru's superior knowledge of languages.

"We're reading the Odyssey in literature," Takeru replies absently, still gazing around the room, transfixed.

"Those are hieroglyphs," Tailmon says, pointing.

"There's Arabic over here!" Miyako shouts from one side of the room.

"This looks like Celtic!" Iori cries from the other.

"This is Tengwar," says Mimi matter-of-factly. Everyone looks at her oddly. "You know, the Elvish language. From _Lord of the Rings_."

There's a brief, disbelieving silence.

"What?" says Mimi blankly.

Sora shakes her head and returns to staring at the wall.

"Hey, this is binary code!" says Koushiro disbelievingly.

"A lot of it is in our own digital script," says Tentomon. "For example, this reads 'digivolve.""

"What's it all for?" wonders Armadillomon.

"The fact that they're giving off this light energy seems to imply that this is the destination of the energy that has been redirected from our world," Koushiro says, "but as to what their function is, I don't know."

"Is it possible that their purpose is benevolent?" Hikari asks after a moment.

"If they were benevolent, why would Gabumon have been kidnapped?" Takeru replies.

"Good point," Hikari acknowledges.

Sora glances over at Yamato, Jyou and Gabumon. Yamato's still got Gabumon in his lap, and Jyou seems to be checking him for vital signs.

"Hey, this one says explode!" says Piyomon worriedly. Sora's head whips back around. Piyomon is pointing to a symbol written in Digiglyphs near the door.

"This is in romanji," Mimi says, kneeling down besides Piyomon and pointing to a phrase next to the symbol. "But it's not English."

Sora peers at it carefully. "I think it's French," she says.

Takeru makes his way over. "Ce qui est le plus proche à cette porte," he reads. "That which is closest to this door."

"Explode - " says Ken thoughtfully. "Combined with 'that which is closest to the door.'"

"You don't think - " Miyako says, eyes wide.

"Does anyone know what these are?" says Ken, pointing to a pair of brackets that flank the combination.

"It looks like a set," says Koushiro gravely. "An algebraic set."

Ken nods. "That's what I thought."

"Anyone care to explain what in hell you're talking about?" Taichi snaps. looking more irritable than ever.

"Everyone, stand back," says Ken darkly.

"Ken, you're going to set it on yourself!" Miyako wails.

Ken ignores her. "Anyone have something they can spare to lose on them?"

Sora looks down at herself, frowning, but before she can find anything Hikari pulls a light pink handkerchief from her pocket. "Here you go, Ken."

"Thanks," he says. He then places it a small distance from the door, walks calmly over to the explode symbol, and presses his hand against it.

_Boom!_

Ken dives out of the way just as Hikari's handkerchief explodes into a million pieces. Everyone watches in horror as its tiny ashes flutter back down to the ground and settle on the stone floor peacefully.

"It's like some _weird_ digital land mine," breathes Taichi incredulously. The ensuing silence is one of agreement rather than dissent, and in the quiet of the room, everyone's minds settle on that phrase for the strange, curse-like designs adorning the walls.

"Mines," says Takeru, nodding shortly as if to confirm Taichi's assessment.

Koushiro has his computer out again. "Prodigious," he says, "a small surge of electricity disappeared from Europe right when the explosion occurred."

"This," says Ken slowly, turning back to take in the full glory of the glowing walls surrounding them, "this is amazing. You could do anything with this, to anyone."

"What do you mean?" says Wormmon, eyeing his partner nervously, obviously remembering Ken's days as the Digimon Kaiser.

"All you'd need is a name, or a symbol like the crests, and you'd be able to target them," Ken says. "It's simple, it's brilliant, and it's foolproof."

"If that's true, then why'd whoever it is have to kidnap Gabumon to get us here?" says Miyako.

"In my estimation," Koushiro starts, "these mines only work in the digital world, where their power can be converted from electricity to data - " he gestures to the mines themselves " - and from data into other forms of energy, such as that explosion."

"So they'd need bait to get us to the digital world in the first place," Iori reasons.

"Right," says Koushiro.

"So whoever it is will probably be back soon. To set off one that will kill us," says Takeru grimly.

"We'll just have to destroy it before that happens," Daisuke says, that determined, headstrong look that is so characteristic of him settling squarely on his face.

"Look!" says Palmon, pointing a vine where the explode sign had been. "It's gone!"

It's true. There's a blank spot on the wall instead of the old mine.

"So setting it off deactivates it as well," Tentomon concludes.

"There has to be another way to destroy them," says Ken speculatively.

"Why not just set them off and get it over with?" says Taichi impatiently, breaking his huffy silence and heading towards a mine made up of a set of symbols that look like Celtic knots.

"Taichi, no!" says Hikari, leaping up and grabbing her brother around his torso, effectively halting him.

"And why not?" he says, struggling half-heartedly. He's completely irrational at this point, Sora thinks, and her heart just melts for her poor friend, consumed by helplessness and anger and confusion and _hurt_.

"You can't set it off if you don't know what it means," Sora says quietly, hoping he'll see logic again.

Ken nods. "I've actually been trying to work out this one. It's rather complicated, but it basically causes slow and painful death to all the loved ones of whoever sets it off."

Taichi pales. "Oh god," he says. His eyes flick towards Yamato, so quickly it's almost imperceptible, and then he looks down at Hikari's pale hands encircling his waist.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

"It's fine," says Hikari. "Now we know better."

"Have you managed to work any more out?" Koushiro asks Ken.

He nods. "Yeah. There's one that's particularly disturbing."

They follow him to one wall where a complicated set of signs in a large number of languages is enclosed in brackets as tall as Iori.

"There are quite a few that start with this symbol," Ken explains, pointing. It's not a language that Sora even vaguely recognizes. "It basically means 'if.' They act as protective clauses."

"What's it do?" Daisuke's voice.

"If anyone destroys more than five other mines, this one reactivates all of the ones that have been destroyed - and creates new ones."

"It _makes more_?" Takeru says incredulously.

"How many more?" Sora feels inclined to ask.

Ken swallows nervously. "A hundred."

Silence.

" _Fuck,_ " says Taichi vehemently. Sora gives him a disapproving look.

"I guess we'd better not set that one off," says Mimi, somewhat redundantly.

"It's more than that," says Koushiro, looking daunted. "We're going to have to destroy these one by one. In the right order."

The silence that greets his words is immense, but it's interrupted by Yamato's slightly hysterical voice behind them.

"Gabumon! Are you alright? Oh, man, Gabumon, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I was late, I'm sorry I left you here, I'm sorry I turned off my digivice, I'm sorry I thought I could just abandon you - "

They turn to see that Gabumon is once again sitting upright, Yamato kneeling in front of him and holding both of his furry blue-and-white paws in his hands and Jyou standing triumphantly over the two with the proud look of a doctor who's succeeded in his work.

"Don't be silly, Yamato," chuckles Gabumon. "It's not your fault I was captured. It's just bad luck, is all."

"Bad timing is more like it," says Gomamon from behind Jyou. "If any of us other Digimon had been in the digital world, it could have been us."

"Exactly," says Gabumon, shooting a grateful look at Gomamon.

"Gabumon," says Taichi seriously. "Can you tell us exactly what happened?"

Nobody misses the death glare that Yamato shoots Taichi, but most of them miss the hurt expression that briefly crosses Taichi's face before he returns the look. Looking around, Sora guesses that she, Agumon, Gabumon, Hikari, and of course Tailmon, that oddly observant little Digimon, are the only ones to have noticed. Well, it's possible Piyomon knows by now too.

"To be honest, Taichi, there's not much to tell," Gabumon says with remorse. "I first became aware that there was something wrong when a couple of Monochromon attacked me. I tried to reason with them, but all I could get out of them was that they were working for someone, and that I was to be captured. At that point, I knew that they were too powerful for me to fight on my own, so I starting trying to contact Yamato. When that didn't work, I figured the most likely person to respond would be Koushiro. I managed to send him a message before I was knocked out, and I've been in and out of consciousness ever since."

"Why didn't you revert to your in-training stage?" Tentomon asks. "To save energy?"

"I really don't know," says Gabumon. "For some reason, I couldn't."

"I'll bet you anything we'll find something about it in one of these stupid mines," says Mimi bitterly.

"That's a good point," says Koushiro speculatively. "I suppose that would be the most efficient way to keep Gabumon in his rookie form."

"But why?" says Yamato quietly.

Sora realizes with a start that this is the first time today Yamato has shown any interest in participating in this event. Looking behind her, she sees that Takeru looks about as surprised as she feels. It's a good sign, she decides.

"There are two potential reasons." Koushiro states. "The first is that Gabumon's scent is easier to detect in his rookie form. The second, more likely reason is that there are blocks to keep all of our Digimon from digivolving."

"This just keeps getting better and better," Taichi mutters.

A short silence, like a sudden blast of air, follows as the severity of the situation descends rapidly upon them.

"Okay, now what?" says Mimi.

"Everyone, I need you to find sets that start with if," says Ken in the tone of voice usually reserved for leaders like Taichi or Daisuke, "and anyone who can read digiglyphs, I want you to look for anything relating to digivolving."

"But what happens when we find them?" says Iori logically. "We don't know how to destroy them without setting them off."

"I've actually been thinking about that," Hikari says thoughtfully. "Can't we just make our own mines?"

"What?" says Miyako.

"Why?" says Tailmon.

"Make one that deletes another one," Hikari answers calmly.

Silence.

"That's absolutely brilliant, Hikari," Ken breathes finally. Hikari beams and Miyako shoots her a murderous glare. "Of course it's possible to use whatever it is that's powering these to power something of our _own_ design."

He falls silent again, his face set in a look of intense concentration.

"All right," he says after a moment. "We still need to destroy them one at a time. Everyone, look for this _if_ clause. If you find any, tell me right away."

Everyone defers their gaze to Taichi, who is, after all, officially the leader, seemingly seeking his approval of the plan. He glares at them all balefully. "Well, what are you waiting for? Start looking!"

"Hawkmon, Patamon, Tentomon, come on!" says Piyomon, nodding at Taichi. "We'd better fly up and take a look at the parts of the wall the others can't see."

With that, the group breaks apart. Sora is on her own, since Piyomon's somewhere overhead. She walks from mine to mine slowly, calling for Ken whenever she sees the complicated if symbol. Then Ken translates it and, if necessary, deletes it by having Wormmon carve a name onto the dangerous mine so it can be identified in the new one and then write a simple delete function on an empty patch of wall.

Activating their own mines, however, proves to be a little trickier than any of them had originally thought. Eventually Koushiro, after performing a chemical analysis of the original mines, works out that they are powered with the bio-energy of the Digimon themselves, and Agumon fires a Pepper Breath at a function, causing it to start glowing the same bright orange as Agumon's breath.

Sora pauses to frown at a strange mine written in some language that she doesn't recognize. A hand on her shoulder makes her jump.

"Sora," says Taichi's voice, hoarse and desperate.

Turning, she takes one look at him and flings her arms around him. Yamato's going to take this the wrong way, she knows, but the look on Taichi's face is too much for her to bear.

"Oh, Taichi," she whispers. "I'm so sorry."

They stay like that for a moment. Then Sora pulls away and slaps Taichi across the cheek. It's what Yamato would do in my place, she reasons. Except he'd probably punch Taichi. Slapping is for girls. "Now pull yourself together. We _need_ you."

Taichi places one hand against his cheek, then nods. "You're right."

Sora smiles. "That's the Taichi I know."

They turn back to the wall and resume inspecting the mines.

"Wait a minute," Taichi mutters to himself, and then, "Ken!"

Ken runs over. "What is it?"

"Could you write a set that would delete all the sets that can be deleted without setting off other ones? Or a set that deletes all sets with the if symbol in them?"

Ken frowns. "That's a good idea, Taichi, but I'm not sure. Give me a minute to think about how I could word it."

"What about a set that works like the find function on a computer?" Miyako suggests. "To find all the sets with _if_ in it, or _digivolve_ , or whatever?"

Ken nods. "That will work. Will you do it, Miyako?"

Miyako's grin is enormous. "Yes!" she shouts, pumping her fist into the air. Sora laughs at the other girl's antics. She's glad that particular romantic tension has been decimated.

Hawkmon descends from the ceiling and Miyako begins showing him what symbols to write. As soon as Hawkmon finishes carving the set into the wall with his beak, Miyako steps forwards and activates it.

Suddenly the room is cast in a warm pink glow. Looking around, Sora sees that a good number of the mines are now emitting pink light, and a few are even purple.

"The pink ones are the ones with _if,_ " Miyako explains. "The purple are the ones with _digivolve_."

"Did you have to pick such girly colors?" Daisuke grumbles.

"We've deleted eight mines so far," Ken says. "If any of these are set to go off after ten others have been deleted, we'll need to delete them first." He starts reading the pink sets, Miyako hovering comfortably nearby.

Meanwhile, Koushiro is busy carving a mine of his own into the wall.

"What are you doing?" says Jyou curiously, meandering over from where Yamato and Gabumon are still situated in the center of the room, Yamato's eye trained loyally on his Digimon as if afraid he'll disappear from right in front of him.

"This is the kanji symbol for reveal," Koushiro explains. "It's possible that there are some mines that are being hidden by others."

Daisuke nods. "Good thinking. We might end up setting off a really bad one otherwise."

When Koushiro activates it, a web of light slowly splays itself across the floor.

"Oh dear," says Jyou worriedly. "That's not good."

"I hope we haven't been setting any off by stepping on them," Sora says, looking nervously at the ground around her feet.

"There's more up here too!" cries Patamon. They look up to see him hovering near the ceiling, also aglow now.

"Miyako's set seems to be working on these ones as well," Koushiro says, pointing to a large purple area far above their heads.

"Can you read that one, Patamon?" Takeru yells up to his Digimon.

"No!" he replies. "All I can read is 'digivolve' and 'digidestined.'"

The silence seems to speak. What it says is, "hmm..." in a speculative tone.

It's interrupted by Koushiro, of all people.

"Yes!" he says, jumping around excitedly in a manner more befitting of a small child than a reserved computer analyst. Everyone stares, understandably surprised.

"That's got to be the one that's stopping our Digimon from digivolving! What else could it be?"

The next silence is one of awe and sudden realization.

"Go label it, Hawkmon!" Miyako cries, pointing dramatically upward.

"You got it!" the bird Digimon obeys, flying straight up.

But as he goes, a thin shadow falls across the room, enshrining them all in feathery gray fog.

"Welcome to my lair," says an ominous voice, "you must be the Digidestined."


	8. Our Heart Beats

"It's about time you showed up, whoever you are!" says Daisuke loudly as they all turn to face the voice. Standing in the doorway is a tall grey Digimon encased in white-and-gold armor and with large, tattered-looking purple wings protruding from his back. Taichi runs forward and joins Daisuke at the head of the group, scowling at the intruder. He really hates these villain types.

"I am Dynasmon," the Digimon says, his voice echoing enormously. "And I am here to destroy you."

"Oh my god, how predictable," Jyou sighs from somewhere behind him.

"Hawkmon, _hurry up_!" Miyako yells urgently. When Taichi glances at her, he sees she's standing beside Ken, who is scratching out a delete symbol on the wall.

"Boom bubble! Pah!" says Patamon. As the Digimon of the bearer of hope, he's almost always the first to attack in his rookie form. The others join in, but predictably Dynasmon brushes off the colorful flurry of tiny attacks easily.

Koushiro is typing away on his laptop hurriedly. "Dynasmon is a mega-level Digimon," he reads out loud, "Apart from his tremendous physical strength, he also has an amazing defense, and can fly at great speeds. It is rumored that he can control the many powers of light."

"I would say that rumor is true," says Sora dryly, gesturing to the walls.

"So, Dynasmon, is it?" Taichi shouts, hoping he can stall the Digimon and maybe even get some information out of it. "What the hell are you trying to do here anyway?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, foolish child?" Dynasmon laughs, causing Taichi's scowl to deepen. He is, after all, no child these days. "I'm harnessing the power of your world and using it to control mine! And soon, your world will be devoid of power, and I will rule over them both!"

"And that doesn't sound familiar at all," Tailmon says in her bitingly caustic way.

"What, you're going to start an energy corporation and take over Wall Street?" says Jyou, only half-joking.

"These bad guys are all the same," says Agumon from Taichi's side. "No imagination."

Taichi looks at them all and can't help a small grin. They're experts at this, at the tug-of-war game that is baiting an enemy and yet holding them off until they can deliver that final blow. Even these seemingly meaningless, petty comments are a part of this.

"Miyako, go!" says Hawkmon from above, rapidly descending. As Dynasmon turns to look at Miyako, Hawkmon shouts, "Feather Slash!" The attack does little, but it does serve as a distraction and Dynasmon turns his back on Ken and Miyako, not noticing them carving into the wall.

"Hawkmon, what did you label it?" Ken shouts desperately.

"The digiglyph for victory!" Hawkmon shouts back, catching his feather and then throwing it right back at Dynasmon. Taichi snorts at the name.

Ken quickly carves the symbol and activates the new set. It glows briefly.

Taichi looks up to see the large purple area overhead blink out of existence.

"Great!" he says. "Now, everyone listen. All of you need to work on getting rid of these damn things. Yamato and I will fight Dynasmon."

The others nod.

"No," says Yamato.

"What?"

"I won't fight with you," says Yamato shortly, crossing his arms over his chest. Taichi feels one thing at this: burning, irrational anger. Can't the stupid idiot see that this is what has to be done?

"I won't protest that," Dynasmon rumbles. "Dragon Thrower!"

The attack comes straight for Yamato, and Taichi pushes him out of the way.

"Taichi!" Agumon yells, warp-digivolving and countering the attack.

"Everyone, _get to work!_ " Taichi yells over his shoulder. He doesn't look back until he's satisfied the others have stopped their rubber-necking. He then turns back to Yamato and grabs him by the shoulders. "Listen, we've got to jogress. Dynasmon is a mega!"

"So what?" says Yamato bitterly, struggling against Taichi's grip. "We're not the only ones who can jogress."

"Yeah, but Omegamon's the strongest!"

"Yamato, please," Gabumon pleads.

"I can't hold him back much longer," growls Metalgreymon.

Yamato glances down at his Digimon, then back up at Taichi. He scowls. "Fine then. But I don't have to like it."

"Who said anything about you liking it," mutters Taichi, but Yamato's words sting.

"Gabumon?" says Yamato, ignoring Taichi. His partner nods, then warp-digivolves.

"Taichi!" says Koushiro from behind him. Taichi turns his head.

"What?"

"I'm going to use a carving to power the jogress! It should make your attacks stronger!"

"Hurry!" Taichi replies.

"It's almost done. I just have to activate it," Koushiro answers.

"Well, stop talking and activate it!" Taichi shouts.

Koushiro does.

A shining light envelops Taichi and Yamato and their Digimon and Taichi relishes the familiar feeling of warmth that fills him as the two Digimon jogress.

But when the light dissipates, Taichi realizes that something is off. He can feel - _he can feel Yamato's heartbeat._ It thunders against his own chest frantically, like an animal trying to get out of a cage.

How strange.

Wait - hadn't Daisuke said something about that?

Taichi struggles to remember.

_"And I could feel Ken's heart beating along with mine! It was totally awesome!"_ Daisuke's enthusiastic voice rings in his head.

And Hikari had said something about feeling the same phenomenon when Tailmon and Halsemon jogressed.

But . . . why hadn't Taichi felt it before?

Why now?

Distantly, he hears Omegamon's voice shouting, "Transcendent Sword!" But it doesn't seem important.

He thinks back to the fight with Diablomon, and suddenly it clicks.

Their hearts had been in sync.

Of course.

And now . . . and now. And now they're in the worst fight they've ever been in, a fight that Taichi doesn't even completely understand the full of, and Yamato won't even look at him properly, and Taichi's emotions are more muddled than ever, and he's angry and he's lonely and miserable and their hearts are out of sync for the first time ever and _he knows two things for sure._

"Taichi!" comes a voice from far away. It sounds like Koromon. "Taichi, it's over! Snap out of it!"

He knows, more certainly than anything he's ever known, that he loves this crazy, stupid, stubborn boy, despite it all.

And he knows that, more than anything, he really, _really_ wants to cry.

So he does.

* * *

To say the least, they're all a little surprised when Taichi, their great and glorious leader, doesn't snap out of his reverie and flash them his cheeky smile like they all expect him to, but bursts into tears.

"Taichi?" says Koromon worriedly, bouncing up and down next to his partner. "Taichi, are you all right? Taichi, what's wrong?"

Taichi's sobs are terrifying. They're loud, harsh, desperate, uneven, ragged, hysterical cries of pain, like something has ripped out his insides and left him bleeding and dying on the ground. Like a mortally wounded animal. It's something Mimi would expect from a disintegrating evil Digimon, but not from someone like Taichi. She's never seen him cry before, and it's an enormously unsettling thing.

"What do you think happened to him?" she asks Sora nervously. Sora's staring at Taichi with a very worried look on her face, and she doesn't answer Mimi's question.

"Do you think they set something off when they killed Dynasmon?" Jyou says from her other side. Mimi frowns. That would make a lot of sense, wouldn't it? But what exactly could they have set off to cause Taichi to react like this?

"No, they didn't," Koushiro replies. "We made sure that nothing like that would happen while those two were fighting. Besides, all the mines were already gone when Dynasmon was destroyed."

"Then what is it?" says Tentomon, completely confused.

"Excuse me," says Yamato coldly from behind them. After they've all turned to look at him, he says quite calmly, "If you no longer need me, I'll be going now."

"Don't you dare!" Hikari snaps, quite unexpectedly. Mimi glances at the normally collected girl and notices her stance, stiffly defensive, like someone expecting a blow to the stomach. She's trying to protect Taichi, Mimi realizes, and resists the urge to start crying herself. This is not how things are supposed to be.

"Why not?" Yamato challenges her.

"Why _not_?" Hikari says in a voice of deadly calm. "Because my brother is crying on the floor, that's why not. What kind of friend would you be if you just left like that?"

"I'm not his _friend_ ," Yamato spits out.

Mimi gasps in shock and shakes her head in wonder. Even though Yamato is infamous in Japan for his good looks, Mimi can't help but think he looks very ugly at this moment, his face contorted in rage.

Yamato turns and begins to walk away again, pausing only slightly when Takeru calls after him.

"I'm going with him," Tsunomon tells the rest apologetically. "I'm sorry for his behavior."

Koushiro nods. "Make sure he doesn't turn off his digivice again. I'll be along in a few days to set him up with a computer so you can get to and from the digital world."

"Thank you very much," Tsunomon says, bowing his head slightly and turning and bouncing after Yamato. "Yamato, wait!"

Hikari shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Takeru, but sometimes I just can't stand your brother."

"Me neither," Mimi jumps in without thinking.

Takeru sighs. "He's just upset."

"Yeah, mentally upset," Mimi can't help but add.

"Mimi!" Sora admonishes, but Mimi can see a hint of a smile.

"Okay, everyone," says Hikari, "I'm going to take care of Taichi. You guys head on back."

Daisuke nods. "We'll wait for you at Koushiro's apartment."

Hikari shakes her head. "It's okay. You all go home."

Daisuke looks like he's going to protest, but the look on Hikari's face seems to convince him otherwise, so that an exaggerated look of dejection settles across his face. It becomes even more exacerbated when Takeru leans over and kisses Hikari on the cheek.

"Good luck," he whispers in her ear.

What makes this scene so much different from the ones she'd witnessed when she'd first met Daisuke, Mimi reflects, is that Daisuke's disappointment fades quickly, so that the next moment he's exchanging childish insults with Miyako as if nothing's happened, as if - as if his continuing infatuation with Hikari is now more out of habit than any truly romantic feelings. A strange development, but nonetheless an improvement, Mimi decides. She remembers how bull-headed and angry he had been when the pair had announced their engagement.

"All right, let's get out of here," says Takeru finally, throwing one last smiling look at Hikari before turning to Koushiro expectantly.

Koushiro has luckily left a computer with an open digiport on at his place, so he leads them out of the castle, opens another gate from his laptop, and then they're back in the real world just like that.

"Oh, Mimi," says Koushiro. "I forgot we have to send you back to New York from the Digiworld. I'll open another gate."

"Thanks, Koushiro, but I'm not quite ready yet," says Mimi, eyeing Sora and Jyou in turn. She's not leaving until she knows exactly what was going on with Taichi back there, and she's got a gut feeling that Sora's the one to ask. As for Jyou, she has yet to give him a _proper_ goodbye.


	9. Aftermath

Hikari waits until everyone has disappeared down the long stone corridor, until the last echoes of their footsteps have withered into the void, before turning and surveying her brother, lying on his side on the floor, curled into himself, his body shaking with violent sobs, the dusty stones under his face soaking up his briny tears with the speed of a cracked desert ground absorbing a drop of water.

Koromon has stopped bouncing and is staring motionlessly at Taichi, his normally round form drooping like a too-full water balloon, his eyes tragic, shining circles. If Taichi were faking, his expression would be quite comical, but as he's not Hikari can't bring herself to laugh. Tailmon, of course, stands next to Hikari, looking at Taichi with a concern that almost mirrors Hikari's own.

She hovers there awkwardly for one more moment before coming to a sudden decision.

She's going to get dirt in her hair, she thinks, sighing.

Then she carefully lowers herself to her hands and knees and crawls until she's a few feet from her distraught brother. She lies so that her body is parallel to his and settles in for a long stay.

She doesn't say anything, but she knows he's aware of her presence.

Over the course of hours Taichi's cries diminuendo slowly as Hikari inches closer and closer to him and their two Digimon do the same. Soon, he's no longer wailing but sort of sniffling and gasping as tiny tracts of tears trek down his cheeks, and Hikari's close enough to reach out and run a comforting hand down his arm, to wipe the dried salt tracks off his face. Koromon settles his warm pink body in between them and Tailmon pads over to them, curls up by their heads, and wraps her striped tail around Taichi's wrist in a reassuring manner. They stay like that, a warm bundle of bodies, as the digital sun sets and sends a vibrant orange and pink glow crashing in through the windows above.

When Taichi finally speaks, just as Hikari had known he eventually would, it's dark except for the bright yellow embers of light still left on the walls, remnants of the mines that had been there earlier. They remind Hikari of fireflies, lighting a dancing white path through the black cover of night.

His voice is stronger than one might expect from someone who's been crying so hard, but Hikari knows her brother to be not only resilient but stubborn.

"He hates me," is all he says.

Hours without speaking, and this is all he can drudge up?

"No," says Hikari, matching his firmness with her own.

" _Yes_ ," says Taichi, and his voice is choked with another sob. "Yes."

Hikari frowns into Taichi's mop of brown hair. "No," she says again, but her voice wavers. Yamato had behaved as if he _did_ hate Taichi, today.

A moment of quiet passes between them.

"Hikari," says Taichi, quieter now.

"Yeah?"

"Tell me what it feels like when you and Miyako jogress."

Hikari pauses in her caress of her brother's arm, considering. The question is unexpected, but not unreasonable.

"It's - strange," she starts. "You feel this sort of warmth, and this - this complete _understanding_ of the other person. Like you know exactly who they are, and what they want, and where they're coming from."

Taichi is silent for a moment. "So complete that you can feel their heart beat?"

Hikari smiles. She wouldn't have thought to put it that way. "Yeah, that's it exactly. It's as if you _become one_ , just as the Digimon are doing."

Taichi closes his eyes, as if in pain, and a taut silence stretches above them, waiting.

"What happened?" Hikari eventually says. "When you and Yamato jogressed today."

Taichi doesn't open his eyes as he answers her. "It's strange," he says, his voice far away, "but it never felt like that to me."

"The jogress?" Hikari prompts.

Taichi nods very slightly. "I heard you and Daisuke talk about the heartbeat thing, but I never felt it when me and Yamato jogressed. I assumed it was something to do with you being the new Digidestined."

"Hmm," says Hikari. "And today -"

"Today I felt Yamato's heart beat."

Taichi's eyes open, and Hikari wishes they hadn't. There's a hollowness there, a pain that she doesn't like seeing, if only because she knows there's nothing she can do to make it go away.

"Is that bad?" she says softly.

"Why do you think I couldn't feel it before?" Taichi answers. "Why now? Why when we're fighting?"

Hikari has no answer.

"Because he was fighting it," Taichi answers his own question with a heavy tone.

"I don't understand," says Hikari, unable to stop herself from scrunching up her nose in confusion. "Why would that make you jogress _better_?"

Taichi shakes his head. "No," he says, "you're right, it wouldn't."

He seems to be waiting for something, as if there's something she's not grasping here, as if he wants her to latch onto it on her own, without him further elucidating it.

"Then," she says, searching her mind frantically for a clue as to whatever it is he's hinting at, "you jogressed better before?"

Taichi nods, looking pleased.

Hikari has to think about this. Well, a better jogress would mean you were more one, so if Taichi hadn't been able to feel Yamato's heart beat before it must mean...

"Were they synchronized?" she asks. "Your hearts, I mean."

"Yeah," says Taichi. He is quiet and wistful.

"Oh, _Taichi_ ," she says fiercely, and pulls him into her arms.

When he speaks again, his voice is muffled, as he's curled into her now, his face hidden beneath her shirt. "He's oblivious, and he's mean, and he's emotionally distant. He's cold. I _know_ that."

Looking at her brother from this angle, half his hair flattened against the floor, the other half expanding upward as if against gravity, Hikari is struck by how small he seems. It's a strange feeling, because for most of her life he has seemed so big, so much larger than life. His insane hair, his wide grin - even physically, Taichi has always seemed almost too much to be true.

He says he knows, and if anyone knows Yamato it's him, but Hikari can't help but wonder. If he knows, why does he keep getting hurt?

Maybe it's that demon called hope, that tiny gleam of _maybe_ that fuels even the most drab of lives to continue in their pointless routines.

"I know that," Taichi repeats in a tired manner. "It doesn't stop me from loving him."

"Of course it doesn't," Hikari replies, "nothing could stop _you_ , Taichi."

She rolls up of all of her trust, admiration and love for him into that statement and presents it to him like a religious offering. It doesn't fix anything, but it's the best she has.

She can feel Taichi's slight smile through her shirt.

"It'll be okay," she says, and she really does mean it. Her hands run in circles over his back. "No matter what happened today, he'll get over it, and Takeru and I will go and talk to him, and I _promise_ you'll be friends again."

It comes out a little scrambled and confused, but it gets the point across and Taichi seems reassured all the same. He relaxes his taut body a little, anyway.

"I hope so," he says, and then he says it again in a way that gives it a dreadful sort of finality. "I hope so."

Nothing has really been said, but the conversation is still over, so the two them slowly rise to their feet and look around the room blearily, as if just waking up.

"It's dark," says Taichi, like he's registering for the first time that time has passed.

"Yes," says Hikari, studying her brother's face. His eyes are still red and puffy from crying, but the slight tension that's been there all day has lessened somewhat. He'll be okay, she thinks, relieved. He's going to be okay.

"Let's go back," she says, taking Taichi's hand firmly. It's reassuring to see that her own small hands are as lost in his grip as they've always been, almost as if she can pretend nothing has changed and she's eight years old still.

Tailmon rises onto her hind legs and picks up Koromon, whose big orange eyes are slipping shut, his mouth opening in a yawn that seems as big as he is. He doesn't quite fit into Tailmon's arms, so that she has to wrap them around him uncomfortably, looking like a toddler with a oversized beach ball. Even then, Tailmon's too short to see around the sleeping Koromon's large head and she has to peek out from behind him, as if she's a child peering out from behind a tree.

Their progression through the corridors and out of the castle is slow and unsteady. Sometimes Taichi will have to stop and lean heavily against Hikari, his breathing once again uneven as he tries not to cry while Hikari simultaneously struggles not to stumble with the added load. Sometimes all light will disappear from their path and Hikari will have to activate her crest or even her cell phone in order to cast a tiny patch of computerized light onto the stone floor in front of them. Sometimes there are stairs that need to be attacked with quiet caution and even more lethargy than before. In any case, where it had taken them a mere ten minutes to reach the inner sanctum of the castle, it takes almost an hour to get back out again.

Outside, the digital world is bright with moon- and star-light. Koushiro has, of course, left the gate open, so they pause one last time in front of it, preparing for the return. Hikari gently turns her brother's face towards her own and looks him in the eye again.

"I want you to know," she says, more serious even than she usually is, "I love you a hell of a lot, and I will always be here for you."

"Me too," chimes in a sleepy Koromon, his pink ears lifting slightly.

"I know," says Taichi, and his sad smile is heartbreaking. "Thank you."

And with that, they make their way back to their own world.

They arrive on the other side in Koushiro's computer room, which has about five or six monitors set up and glowing brightly. Most are set to screen savers except for the one they've just fallen out of and one on the opposite side of the room, which Koushiro is sitting in front of, typing frantically away as usual.

"Ah," he says, looking up. "You're back."

Hikari smiles at Koushiro, who is of course as calmly, relentlessly rational as always, as he pushes his chair back and grabs something from the table.

"I've prepared you both drinks," he says briskly. Hikari focuses on what he's holding in his hands - a very full shot glass and a plastic cup of bubble tea - and smiles even wider. Koushiro's strange brand of thoughtfulness is very touching in its awkward way, and his expansive yet incomplete memory does nothing but aid this. She remembers about five years ago a conversation with Koushiro on the subject of tapioca teas, and it's sweet that he's remembered even if her tastes have changed in the intermittent period.

"Thanks," she says, and Taichi nods before wordlessly gulping down whatever alcohol is in the glass. It must be strong, because it reeks.

Meanwhile, Koushiro hands tall glasses of water to both Tailmon and Koromon, who accept them gratefully. Koromon grasps the glass between his ears and practically throws the water into his overlarge mouth.

The tea is good, sliding its cool way down her throat, its taste familiar and yet not, and Hikari finds she has missed it somehow.

"Thank you," she says again, more serious this time, and Koushiro nods briefly, looking a bit embarrassed at the attention.

"Takeru has left your car," he says, changing the subject without even the slightest attempt at subtlety.

Hikari is not surprised. Takeru is, after all, nothing if not thoughtful, although she has a feeling he'll have a lot of questions for her when she gets back. This time she might actually have to answer them.

"Did you drive here?" she asks Taichi softly, squeezing his hand. If he has, it doesn't matter, because he's in no state to drive home - she doubts very much he's even capable of going home at all for a few days at least - and they'd just have to leave the car at Koushiro's for a while. So when Taichi shakes his head slightly it comes as nothing but a relief.

"I came with Sora," he says, his tone almost sorrowful. Hikari knows it's because of the particularly virulent glare that Yamato had given him when he'd spotted Sora's hand on Taichi's shoulder, and her eyes narrow at the memory. Once upon a time, she'd liked Yamato, even been close to him, but it's hard to now that all she can see is how much he's hurting her brother.

Koushiro shoots a glance in her direction, and she can see by its dark yet concerned intensity that he's thinking much along the same lines. He knows, then, what's going on, and Hikari's not surprised. Not only is his sharp mind excellent at puzzling things together, she's fairly sure that on the occasions she's opened her door to find a drunken, broken Taichi leaning against the door frame, the car she'd seen pulling away from the apartment building had been Koushiro's. It is Koushiro who helps Taichi drink himself into oblivion, and it is Hikari who helps him up again. They are on the opposite ends of Taichi's comfort, then, and how strange it is that they are both here with him now.

"Do you want to come home with me?"

She asks even though she already knows the answer.

Taichi nods, a brief inclination of his head that, while slight, is an admission of total defeat.

Koushiro walks them to the door before encasing Taichi in a completely unexpected hug, saying only, "I'm sorry." Taichi looks momentarily shocked, then puts his arms awkwardly around the smaller boy. When they break apart, Koushiro smiles a tight, forced smile at Hikari and says, "Take good care of him."

As they walk out, Koushiro pulls her aside for one quick moment and whispers, "Sora and I will take care of Yamato." It's over so fast that Hikari has barely time to process his words before she's standing in front of a closed door, Tailmon impatiently by her side.

"Come _on_ , Hikari," Tailmon urges. Hikari shakes herself mentally and takes her brother's hand once again, leading him to the car.

* * *

Takeru opens the door to their tiny two-bedroom apartment and silently ushers them in. His expression is concerned as he takes in Taichi's haggard, tired appearance and Koromon's sleeping form, and it grows even more so when his gaze lands on Hikari. Her face is tight and her body stiff, and her hair is somehow more limp, more lifeless. Her eyes are just tired. He wants to reach for her, but resists - the peculiar slant of her shoulders tells him that she has already taken up this burden as her own, and that she will accept no help for it. It is _her_ sacrifice.

He has always been able to read her so very well.

They settle Taichi in the spare bedroom that doubles as an extra office, the little cot almost hidden amidst Takeru's rejected manuscripts and Hikari's half-developed photographs. Takeru offers him a pair of pajamas but Taichi declines and crawls under the covers with his shoes still on. He falls asleep almost instantly, but his rest is uneasy; he flips from side to side, his eyes darting underneath his lowered lids, his hands wrapped almost desperately around Koromon's soft form. His mouth opens and closes constantly, fishlike, sometimes letting out a low whimper or a moan.

They stand over him for a minute, Hikari staring down in consternation, Takeru giving her much the same look. He reaches for her hand and entwines their fingers. They are like new parents looking over the edge of the cradle, helpless and unsure of themselves but nonetheless earnest, eager to try. Their Digimon look on, just as helpless, Tailmon on tiptoe by the bedside, Patamon perched on the dresser.

They switch off the light and leave the room, carefully closing the door behind them. They leave a night light on and a glass of water on the bedside table. Patamon and Tailmon curl up on the couch together and take a nap.

In the tiny kitchen, under the bright fluorescent light, Takeru begins chopping onions. It is only nine, after all, and they are all hungry. Hikari brings a chair in from the dining room and collapses into it.

"I suppose," she says, her voice muffled by her shirt sleeve, "that you want me to tell you what's going on."

Takeru glances at his wife - she is so young, and so beautiful, and yet so tired. Her hands are covering her face.

The truth is, he doesn't just _want_ her to tell him. He _needs_ to know - this is his brother after all - but he suddenly understands that if she can't, he will not press her. She can tell him when she is ready. She has gone through enough already.

"I do," he says, slowly, his knife halted, "I really do. But if you can't . . . ."

He trails off and glances at her. She has taken her hands down and is gazing at him with something approximating wonder.

"I would understand," he finishes. "I trust you."

"Oh, _Takeru_ ," she breathes, and he is pleased to see a soft smile grace her drawn features.

"Thank you," she says quietly, her eyes meeting his, sincere, trustful.

He smiles back. "Of course," he says, and then turns back to the cutting board.

When she takes a long, preparatory breath he realizes that she is going to tell him after all, and he almost collapses in relief. He doesn't, however, turn to look at her as he listens. He senses instinctively that she wants just his ears, not his eyes.

"Did Yamato ever tell you what happened the last night he and Taichi talked?"

Takeru shakes his head. "No, I could never get him to talk about Taichi. Lord knows I've tried, but it's impossible to get something out of him when he's decided not to talk about it."

"I thought as much," Hikari says, sounding regretful. "The thing is, I don't know if Yamato even remembers."

"He was drunk?" Takeru postulates. "He probably doesn't, then. Yamato never could hold his drink."

He smiles ruefully. Not that he ever let anyone know it, though, not proud Yamato.

"What happened?"

"Well," says Hikari, almost gossipy, "this was back when Sora was in New York staying with her father. So it was just the two of them."

Takeru recalled suddenly how oddly close those three had been, once upon a time, despite the fact that Sora and Yamato were dating. Taichi hadn't seemed to feel left out by it back then or anything, just laughed and clapped them both on the back and gone on being friends with them both just like always. It had been as if nothing had changed.

Obviously something had.

"If you remember, Yamato had just turned twenty - " the legal drinking age in Japan - "and so they got a rather, ahem, _minor_ amount of sake and Smirnoff and went to Yamato's apartment."

Takeru rolls his eyes. "This is already spelling disaster."

He finishes with the onions and begins on a large pile of mushrooms.

"Clearly," says Hikari. "Anyway, they both got raging drunk. Totally and completely smashed. You know."

He does. He can picture them both grinning idiotically and tossing pillows at each other or throwing friendly punches or something.

"Getting better and better by the minute," he says.

"So they're in the middle of a pillow fight -"

Hah, thinks Takeru. Those two. So predictable.

" - and Taichi leans over and kisses Yamato."

The statement doesn't immediately process. When it does, he drops his knife in delayed surprise and the blade nicks his pinky finger.

"Oh my _god_ ," he says, sticking the finger in his mouth to stem the bleeding as he whirls to look at Hikari.

"On the mouth," Hikari says, as if for emphasis.

"My god," he says again. "What did Yamato do?"

He is suddenly fearful, knowing his brother, of what he'd said. It can't possibly have been good.

Shit. He remembers, with sudden clarity, the first night Taichi had arrived on their stoop drunk off his ass. He'd stood outside the door, expression stoic, crisscrossed by moonlight, completely unresponsive to Hikari's fawning until she'd mentioned Yamato's name and his face had just caved in completely. He'd howled and howled with sobs that night. He'd also yelled a lot and thrown a chair. It had been, by far, the worst Takeru'd ever seen him. It had been terrifying.

Had that been that night?

"Kicked him out," Hikari says. "He told him he never wanted to talk to him again, and then he kicked him out."

Takeru closes his eyes, draws his hand over his brow, as if to shut out Taichi's pain. "God," he says.

"He said," Hikari says, and her voice lowers, as if ashamed to even say the words out loud, "he said he hated him."

"No," Takeru whispers. No.

Yamato didn't, of course, hate Taichi. In that moment, Takeru is sure, he was betrayed and hurt, had assumed the worst, had thought that Taichi was somehow using him, that lust had been the only reason Taichi had ever been his friend. It wasn't that Yamato always thought the worst of people. It was just that he had never fully accepted that anyone as truly _good_ as Taichi would ever want to be his friend.

"Why," says Takeru. His voice is jagged and broken. "Why did Taichi do it?"

"He didn't know," Hikari says quietly. "That night, when I asked him, he didn't know."

She takes in a deep breath. "He said - he said he just did it. Didn't think, just - "

_They are on the balcony and it is night and a light from across the street glints on Yamato's golden hair and he is laughing, breathless with glee, his face turned to Taichi's, open and happy, and his breath on Taichi's cheek smells like alcohol. The warm night wind rustles their hair, and Taichi is laughing too, exuberant, caught in that moment where he is about to fall._

_He leans forward and grabs Yamato's shirt, as if to keep his balance, and as they both stop laughing he -_

"Kissed him," Hikari finishes. She looks at Takeru stonily. "He loves him, you know."

It is a puzzle, falling into place, as if by magic. Everything suddenly makes sense, and it is so simple, so right - _of course he does_.

"He didn't realize it then," she continues. "But, Takeru, he does - you should see him, he cares so much for Yamato, it absolutely tears him apart - "

Takeru wants to cry. What a situation. It is, somehow, simultaneously all Yamato's fault and nothing to do with him, and though his brother is breaking Taichi's heart, over and over again, Taichi is breaking Yamato's, a little, too.

He hopes, suddenly, that deep down Yamato feels the same way about Taichi. God, wouldn't that make all of this a lot easier?

"Taichi remembers all this?" he asks quietly, referring to the night of the kiss.

Hikari nods.

"And that's why he stopped talking to Yamato and Sora," he concludes.

"Yes," Hikari admits. "I tried to tell him that Yamato hadn't meant it, and anyway didn't remember - he did keep calling Taichi for a while, after all - but Taichi said that he was going to respect Yamato's wishes, and that it was for the best besides."

Takeru shakes his head. "But that must have killed him."

"It almost did," Hikari says. "But I think being around Yamato all the time would have been even worse. Besides, he just wanted Yamato to be happy."

He'd made the same dumb sacrifice Yamato had when he'd broken up with Sora, Takeru realizes. His happiness for that of the one he loved.

_It was for the best besides,_ Hikari had said.

But no one had been any happier, in the end.


	10. What's To Discuss, Old Friends?

_Friends this long has to mean something's strong,_   
_So if your old friend's wrong,_   
_Shouldn't an old friend come through?_   
_It's us, old friend. What's to discuss, old friend?_

_-Stephen Sondheim, Merrily We Roll Along_

* * *

Yamato still hasn't stopped scowling, Gabumon thinks sadly. They've been back at Yamato's house in Shimane for a few days now, and there's been no improvement. Yamato even scowls in his sleep.

Worse still, he won't talk about it. Gabumon sighs. Yamato has always been difficult, but it seems he's being particularly cantankerous these days. Takeru and Patamon had stopped by yesterday and Yamato had been just plain rude until they'd left. Gabumon had yelled at him a little and he'd even seen a flash of guilt cross Yamato's face at one point. But it hadn't lasted, and Yamato's as cold and closed off as ever today.

Gabumon doesn't understand why Yamato's upset in the first place. It had been pretty obvious that it had to do with Taichi - they'd been glaring at each other the entire time, after all, and both he and Agumon knew that there was something off about their jogress - but what exactly what Yamato thinks Taichi's done Gabumon doesn't know. If it hadn't been for Taichi's breakdown, Gabumon is sure he'd be pretty mad at him right now.

Takeru and Patamon hadn't known much either. They had said it had something to do with Sora, too, but that's not much of a surprise either. After all, Yamato and Sora used to live together.

Gabumon has no clue what to make of human relationships. Yamato and Sora had _seemed_ all right together, but they'd never needed each other in the way that Takeru and Hikari do. Gabumon had always been a little confused by Yamato and Sora, to be honest, because in the Digiworld the two had never been close friends. But he had gotten quite used to Piyomon's company.

Perhaps Taichi and Sora are together now? That would upset Yamato, to be sure, but why would it upset Taichi?

Gabumon sighs and gives up. The best he can do is be here for Yamato when Yamato's ready to talk to him. He knows Yamato appreciates his presence, even if he doesn't show it.

Gabumon's not sure that Shimane's the best atmosphere for Yamato right now, really. The house is nice enough - well, actually, it's stunningly beautiful, and the tree-covered world outside provides quite a retreat. But isolation and retreat are exactly what Yamato doesn't need. When Yamato's left alone, he festers like an open wound.

Before Takeru and Patamon had left, they'd told him that he was a good friend, but Gabumon can't help but wonder. Is he? Or would a really good friend confront Yamato, like Taichi used to, instead of comforting him? Instead of doing his cooking and cleaning up after him like a worried mother hen?

What an uncertain thing life is, Gabumon reflects. And friendship, that's pretty uncertain too.

Later, Gabumon's carefully putting away the dishes he's served a silent Yamato lunch on when a knock comes on the door.

"I'll get it!" Gabumon yells, not because he thinks Yamato will even try to answer it, but rather because he wants Yamato to know he can't just ignore the outside world until it goes away.

Sora, Piyomon, Koushiro and Tentomon are outside. Sora looks nervous, Koushiro looks businesslike, and Piyomon looks glad to see him.

"Hello, everyone!" says Gabumon in his most cheerful voice. "Come on in."

He leads them to the sofa, calling over his shoulder, "I'll get Yamato."

Yamato's lying on the bed in the back bedroom, staring at the ceiling. Gabumon makes sure to close the door behind him.

"It's Sora and Koushiro," he tells his friend.

"I don't want to see them," Yamato says automatically.

"Too bad," says Gabumon. "They came all this way to see you. You can't expect me to tell them to just go home."

"I can do whatever I want," Yamato says in a petulant, childlike voice.

"If you don't come out and talk to them, I'm leaving with them and going back to the Digiworld," says Gabumon matter-of-factly. He doesn't like threatening Yamato, but it's not an idle one. He knows Koushiro is here to set up that computer for Yamato so that he can go to the Digiworld and rejuvenate once a week. No computer, no Gabumon.

"You wouldn't," Yamato says dismissively, but Gabumon detects a note of hesitance in his voice.

"I wouldn't have a choice," Gabumon reminds him. "Now, get up."

This is half his life now, he reflects as Yamato sits up slowly. Ushering Yamato into the shower in the mornings, dragging him out the door to go grocery shopping, pulling him into the kitchen for dinner. It's quite tedious, really.

"Ah, Yamato," says Koushiro when they re-enter the living room. "I've brought one of my extra computers. I'm here to set it up and get you connected to the internet."

Yamato looks extremely worn out, like a toy that has been played with one too many times and then thrown aside. "Oh. Thanks."

"Where do you want it set up?" Koushiro prompts after a minute.

"I don't care," says Yamato, a bit harshly.

Koushiro looks annoyed. "Fine. Do you know where there's a phone jack?"

"Kitchen," grunts Yamato.

Koushiro gathers his stuff and walks out huffily, Tentomon trailing behind, leaving Yamato and Sora in stiff silence.

Eventually Sora breaks it with a question. "What are you so pissed off about anyway?" she asks bluntly.

Yamato can't do anything but splutter indignantly. "What - me - of course I'm pissed off!"

Gabumon is relieved to see that Sora's words seem to have jolted some life into him.

"You have absolutely no right to be angry," Sora says calmly.

Gabumon has a feeling she's _trying_ to provoke him. A look at Piyomon confirms this - she's looking at her partner with that disapproving expression of hers.

Yamato's cold attitude has returned. "I have no right to be angry with the person who stopped talking to me for absolutely no reason and without any attempt at explanation, after being my best friend for _nine years_?" His voice is flat, almost monotone.

"Did you ever think that maybe he _has_ a reason?" Sora cuts in, her voice soft but still sharp, like a slightly dulled knife.

Yamato glares at her balefully. "Does he?"

Suddenly, Sora's face shifts. "Yes," she says, without hesitating, but Gabumon knows Yamato won't believe her.

"What is it, then?" he shoots back immediately, crossing his arms over his chest. His stance is confrontational, yet still closed off.

Sora sighs. "I can't tell you that, Yamato. It's not my place."

Yamato nods. "He has no reason," he says conclusively, clinically. He is so detached, Gabumon thinks sadly. He is like an empty shell.

"You don't really think that," says Sora dismissively.

"Don't try to tell me what I think," Yamato says flatly.

"Someone has to!" Sora barks, her frustration flashing suddenly across her face. "Look, I know how hard it is for you to deal with your feelings -"

She breaks off, probably because of the look on Yamato's face. Gabumon has not seen Yamato look so angry in years.

"You dare - " he starts. His voice is dark and viscous with rage. "You actually _presume_ \- "

"You know Taichi has a reason," Sora interrupts, her voice slightly louder than Yamato's but firm and steady. "You just can't admit that you're scared to know what it is. You can't admit that you're _scared_ that Taichi never really cared about you, that you're afraid that you were _never good enough for him_ \- "

"Get out of my house."

Yamato does not yell, he does not shout. Yet there is a finality to the statement, a finality that even Gabumon, who is Yamato's most loyal friend, would be forced to heed if it were directed at him. It is not a veiled threat, nor a command, but somehow a fact. Sora has to leave.

She looks at him, runs a tired hand through her hair, and sighs. Piyomon, next to her, nestles a reassuring pink-feathered wing into Sora's other hand.

"Okay," Sora says finally, resigned. "But just let me say this."

She pauses, as if gathering herself, and gazes momentarily around the room at the sparse and dusty furniture. Her eyes meet Gabumon's for an instant, and she gives him a strained and almost imperceptible smile. Then she looks back at Yamato, her gaze unwavering.

"I know Taichi hurt you," she eventually says softly. "I just want you to realize that you've hurt him too."

Gabumon glances sharply back at Yamato, in time to catch the astonished look that flashes across his face. He does not reply.

"That's all," says Sora. She looks apologetic, now, and the sunlight that slants through the living room windows and flashes off her hair, bright amber and gold, makes her look suddenly matronly and warm. "Please come home to Tokyo, when you're ready. We all miss you."

Yamato does not move, does not even blink. He is still as a statue, immobile in both mind and body.

"Goodbye, Gabumon," says Sora, almost sorrowfully, and then Piyomon detaches herself from Sora's hanging hand and throws herself at Gabumon. Startled, Gabumon wraps his arms around her, carefully, watchful of his own claws.

"You're a good partner," she whispers so that neither human can hear, her beak click-click-clicking next to his ear. "Don't worry, he'll come around."

Gabumon starts, then lets his face relax into a smile. Piyomon knows him so very well - she's guessed exactly what's bothering him, and as always she knows exactly the right thing to say.

"Thanks," he says, "see you in the Digiworld," and then they are both gone in a sudden whirl of pink and blue feathers and red-gold hair.

The door clicks shut, and Gabumon is left alone with Yamato, who immediately collapses onto the sofa and recommences his previous practice of staring fiercely at nothing at all.

Gabumon sighs. He is a calm and well-disposed Digimon by nature, which is probably why he and Yamato work so well together in the first place, but sometimes. Sometimes Yamato and his melodrama is a bit much for even the calmest of Digimon.


	11. The Grief That Does Not Speak

_Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak_  
Whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break.  
-Shakespeare, Macbeth

* * *

The morning light is pale and soft and filters through the trees in gentle patches. Above him the sky is still inky blue but fading fast, the dwindling remainder of night, like watercolors steadily seeping away. A small stream trickles past him, clear and cold as air in winter, rippling lightly over the mottled gray pebbles beneath.

Yamato has always secretly wanted to play guitar in the forest as the sun comes up, but now that he's here, sitting in the dirt with his guitar strap over his neck, he feels fairly ridiculous. It's quiet, but strangely enough he can barely hear himself play. Every chord he picks out dissipates rapidly away into the air around him, as if the sound is fleeing, dancing away to some unknown corner of the world. As a result he doesn't feel closer to nature, as he had originally hoped, but is only reminded inexorably of his own insignificance.

He recommences his playing, anyway, letting the sound disappear, playing whatever chords feel right under his fingers. He had long ago reached the point in his playing where he could let his fingers just go while his mind wandered, leaving some small part of his subconscious to the music.

It strikes him that gestures like this, gestures that seem in his head as if they would convey exactly what he is feeling, always turn out far less dramatically than expected. After his parents had divorced, he had taken his only picture of the four of them, his parents and Takeru and himself, out of its frame and carried it down to the pier, where he intended to set the photograph aflame and let the ashes drift gently down into the ululating waves in a grand symbolic gesture. But the sea, of course, had other ideas. The ocean breeze had quietly and efficiently snuffed out each of his matches just as he lit them, so that eventually he had to drop the intact picture over the rail, where, frustratingly enough, the wind had once again intervened, lifting the fluttering photograph above the reach of the water and onto a small dry ledge just out of Yamato's grasp, where a seagull had promptly shat on it.

Life, thinks Yamato, is like that. You decide things are one way or the other, and the universe immediately goes about proving you wrong in whatever way it can.

He thinks suddenly of what Sora had said to him weeks before - _"Did you ever think that maybe he_ _ **has**_ _a reason?" -_ and considers that the universe may be trying to prove him wrong on this count, as well.

Indeed, even calm, rational Koushiro had taken Taichi's side.

Yamato had been lying on the couch in the living room and sulking, arms over his chest, when Koushiro finished installing the new computer.

He and Tentomon had come back into the living room and started looking for Sora and Piyomon rather obviously, turning their heads to and fro like an audience watching a tennis match.

"She left," Yamato had said curtly, watching them from the corner of his eye. "We had a fight."

Koushiro raised his eyebrows at this. "Did you," was all he said.

"She seems to think that Taichi was _justified_ in his sudden de-friending of me," Yamato had explained tensely. Normally he wouldn't have bothered to elaborate like that, but he had wanted suddenly for Koushiro to agree with him, for his most logical friend to nod along and say, "Yes, yes, I can see why that would be upsetting for you," or any other manner of mildly affirmative response. But Koushiro had only raised his eyebrows once more, in silent acknowledgment.

"Of course _she_ would say that," Yamato had added bitterly. "Since she and Taichi are _so in love_."

Koushiro's eyebrows had seemed to inch higher, if it were possible. They were already up to his hairline. "I do not know what evidence begat that conclusion," he had said, in the tones of a math teacher correcting a student's errant calculations, "but I would recommend checking your logic again."

"So you think Taichi's right, too," Yamato had said, accusation thick on his tongue, "You think that I have _no reason to be angry_."

Koushiro had looked at him in silence for a moment, considering, analyzing. "No," he had replied finally. "But I do not think your reason is good."

Yamato thinks of this now, and sighs. Perhaps Koushiro is right. What is his reason for being angry with Taichi, again? For stealing away Sora? Well, he had been the one to break up with Sora in the first place, and hadn't Koushiro basically told him that Taichi and Sora weren't in love?

Is it possible that the great sacrifice he made, his happiness for the happiness of his two best friends, had been in vain?

But no, he tells himself, no. He hadn't been happy with Sora, not for a long time. Breaking up with her hadn't been a sacrifice so much as an opportunity for the two of them to seek happiness in other places. If Yamato is truly honest with himself, the breakup had been as much about him as about her.

It was true, though, that he had been partly angry with Taichi because he'd thought that Sora's happiness had lain with him, and he'd been bitter and a little possessive. Sora had been _his_ , so why couldn't she be happy with _him_? What was wrong with _him_?

No matter that he had been just as unhappy with her. The jealousy had still been there, had maybe been the more potent for its irrationality.

But wait, Yamato thinks suddenly. Hadn't it gone both ways? He had been jealous of _Sora_ , too, strangely. Taichi had been his jogress partner, his best friend for years, the one person in his life he had felt able to depend on. His relentless cheeriness persisted in the face of even the worst of Yamato's bad days. He had felt closer to no one except Gabumon, not even Takeru, for though he loved his brother very much, he had never been able to _confide_ in him, and though he had rarely actually said anything to Taichi, either, Taichi had always just been able to _tell_. Taichi understood Yamato, and Yamato wanted that all to himself, he didn't want to think that Taichi could possibly share this closeness with _anyone else_ , not even Sora.

So he had been mad at Taichi for ... for what? Abandoning him?

Yes, he decides, _yes_ , and in more than one way! Yamato can think of no reason, _none,_ that Taichi might have that could justify the way he has treated Yamato, who is supposed to be his _best friend_ , after all. Yamato has seen more of his _mother_ than he has of Taichi, lately.

_God_ , Yamato thinks, emphatically. His anger is bubbling up faster and stronger, now, and he lets himself stew in it. His callused fingers pick out harsher chords on his guitar. Taichi has _no right_ to hurt him like this.

He is mad at Taichi for what happened in the Digiworld, too. He is mad at Taichi for _crying_. What in the world does Taichi have to _cry_ over, for God's sake? He's the one - he's the one, after all, who had _chosen_ to _ditch_ Yamato like this! He's the one who actually has the control in the situation!

Yamato's anger grows significantly at this thought. He hits the next chord so violently that one of his guitar strings actually breaks off with a twang. Cursing, he reaches into the guitar case for a spare.

He calms down almost immediately after he stops playing, and his mind changes tracks to head in an entirely different direction.

What can he _do_ about it?

...

Well.

There are only two possible answers to that question.

He can keep ignoring everything entirely, as he had done for years.

Or he can confront Taichi.

* * *

Hikari peers at the viewscreen of the digital camera distractedly. On the screen, the ocean waves crash periodically on the shore, and a tiny dot of a seagull flutters across the left corner.

She sighs as she zooms in as far as the camera will allow. Since it's one of her school's nicer pieces of photography equipment, this is quite far, and the updated view on the screen is all foam and churning black water. Hikari rather likes the effect. She snaps a couple of shots in rapid succession.

Lately her photographs have been getting more and more abstract, she reflects, turning the dial atop the camera to look over the new pictures. One picture she'd taken a couple of days ago, a close-up of the rust gathering on an uneven metal surface, had been particularly breathtaking.

She supposes it stands to reason, really, considering the current state of her home life. Taichi's unhappiness is so huge that it has begun to engulf the entire household, so that everyone wanders around sort of gloomily, forgetting what they were doing and staring blankly at nothing. Tailmon spends even more of the day sleeping than usual. Even Patamon's wings droop with the heaviness of sorrow, and the halls of their tiny apartment, usually full of conversation and laughter, are still and quiet.

When he isn't in class, Takeru has been locked up in his office for most of the past week, typing away on his laptop. "I just can't help it," he had confessed to Hikari last night, when he'd finally come to bed. "I _have_ to write, I can't stop."

"That's good," Hikari had mumbled, half-asleep. "But why _now_?"

"There's just so much sadness around here," he'd replied, his eyes far away. " _Someone_ has to do something about it."

Indeed, Taichi himself doesn't seem to be doing much. He spends most of his time in the spare bedroom, oozing unhappiness. He lies sprawled on the bed, as limp as if all his bones have been liquefied, and accepts the food that Agumon brings him from the kitchen. Takeru had mused absently that he and Yamato were doing much the same thing, these days.

To Hikari's surprise though, Taichi has been _reading_ , an endeavor which is as unlike him as eating brussels sprouts. He had picked up one of Takeru's books for school off the floor one day, and Hikari supposes something about it spoke to him or something. She'd glanced at the title - _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_ \- and shrugged. Everyone has their own way of dealing with grief, it seems.

"Missus Takaishi!" a voice calls suddenly.

Hikari looks up from the camera, which she's been staring at this whole time, to see her photography professor atop a little hill of sand some ways off, gesturing at her impatiently.

"Come on!" he calls. "The bus is heading back to campus now."

Hikari turns the camera off and lets it drop back to its resting place around her neck, and heads towards the professor, moving quickly. She always tries to head home from class as soon as possible, so as not to leave Taichi alone for too long.

She takes a few more pictures from the bus with a thirty-second shutter and they come out beautifully, all blurred blue and grey and yellow with motion. Her professor leans over to look and smiles, pleased.

"Beautiful as always, Takaishi," he comments. "Like a painting."

Hikari smiles, too, studying the tiny screen. They are great pictures, so full of emotion, almost as if it's a snapshot of what her brother's feeling rather than what's out the window. She resolves to show them to Taichi later.

She arrives at her apartment building at twilight. All around her long shadows grasp at the ground. She can pick out their apartment window from here, and is surprised to see that all the lights are on. The window blazes bright yellow, as if in a friendly gesture to the night.

Puzzled, Hikari enters the elevator and presses the button for their floor. Usually the window is dark, or nearly so, lighted only by the dim light from the kitchen. Who would have turned the lights on? Takeru's still in class, and the Digimon are in the Digiworld. That leaves just Taichi, and he hasn't left his room in days, except for the bathroom. So what in the _world_ is going on?

She arrives at the front door and stops. Music is blaring from inside the apartment, upbeat rock music of some sort. The beat is familiar, and she wonderingly tries to place it.

Her breath catches as she realizes. _Yamato's_ music, she says to herself, shocked. She fumbles for her key, and hopes her brother is okay.

* * *

Yamato finishes fiddling with the replacement string and then starts playing again, choosing more mild chords, strumming more gently. The sun is stronger now, and Yamato absorbs its heat gladly, letting it warm his tired body in its steady glow.

If he really thinks about it, the truth is that he has already made his decision. He made his decision when he broke up with Sora.

Because breaking up with Sora had been, at its core, a decision to stop pretending that everything was okay when it really wasn't, when it wasn't even close to being okay. And ignoring the way Taichi's been treating him is just an extension of that same stupid game of pretend. He had pretended as hard as he could that Taichi's opinion hadn't mattered to him at all, when of course it mattered more than almost anything. He had lied to himself in the hopes that, someday, if he tried hard enough, the lie would become truth, and he wouldn't _need_ Taichi anymore.

But he _does_ need Taichi. Yamato lets himself think that, finally, and is suddenly filled with conflicting emotions of sadness and relief. He needs Taichi to cheer him up, challenge him, yell at him, tease him - in short, to just _be there_. To be Yamato's friend, as he had once been.

He traces his own life back, to the day where Taichi had suddenly stopped talking to him, and remembers his own panic when his best friend wouldn't return his phone calls, wouldn't answer his front door.

He had been _miserable_. He hadn't allowed himself to think it, but he had been. He had missed Taichi more than he would ever have admitted.

So what does that mean to him now? Yamato wonders, almost idly, as he shifts to a minor key. The music he plays now is wistful, almost longing. What is he going to say to Taichi?

The answer comes to him surprisingly easily, and he realizes it's been there all along, burning strong and pure at the back of his mind.

He has to ask Taichi _why_.

* * *

Hikari finally manages to get the door open and rushes inside worriedly. The front hallway is neat and bright, the light is on overhead, the shoes by the door are lined up in a long straight row. The mess of papers and schoolbooks that normally resides on the floors is nowhere to be seen.

In the living room, Taichi is sitting on the couch slurping a bunch of noodles out of a take-out box and singing along with the music horribly. It sounds like a stray cat yowling. In contrast Yamato's voice through the speakers is deep and smooth, like water running.

Taichi turns to give Hikari his goofiest grin and sweeps his hand to indicate the take-out bag on the table.

"Hey," he says nonchalantly, "I got some for you too."

Hikari just stands and _gapes_ at him. This morning when she'd left for school she'd stopped by his room to say good morning and he'd just stared at her vacantly. Now, less than twelve hours later, he's sitting here like everything is normal, like nothing ever happened.

"Wha - " says Hikari. _"What_?"

Taichi laughs, a real laugh.

"Did you think I was going to sit around and sulk _forever_ or something?"he says. "I'm not _Yamato_ , you know."

"But," Hikari starts haltingly. "But nothing's different! How can you be so cheerful when - "

She breaks off, biting her lip. But Taichi seems to get her point, and shrugs elaborately.

"Look," he says, "sometimes you have to accept things you don't want to, you know? I happen to be in love with someone who hates me - "

"He doesn't _hate_ \- " Hikari interrupts.

"Or in any case is extremely angry with me," Taichi continues relentlessly. "Okay. So what? I'm not the only person who's ever loved someone who doesn't love them back."

Hikari stares at him, awed. "But - "

"It doesn't matter," Taichi says. He's smiling again, suddenly, a kind of wistful, content little smile. "It really doesn't. What matters is that I love him."

He pauses. Yamato's music fills the room. The song playing now is a slow one, a simple guitar line and some drums, Yamato's voice soft and warm.

"When it comes down to it," Taichi continues after a minute, tilting his head thoughtfully, "love is a _wonderful_ feeling."


	12. Anger Soon As Fed

_Anger soon as fed is dead. 'Tis starving makes it fat.  
-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

Taichi sits quite contentedly on his own couch, in his own apartment, chewing on a pen cap in concentration. He and Agumon had left Hikari's apartment early this morning, to a cacophony of goodbyes and an excess of hugging. Now he's home, and glad to be there, eating take-out as always and going through the mail that had piled up in his little mailbox in the front lobby.

Agumon had departed to the Digiworld about an hour ago, where he'd agreed to meet with a conference of important Digimon concerning the formation of some sort of Digi-government.

"Well, as Gabumon puts it, it was bound to happen eventually," he had explained. "Enough evil tyrants try to oppress a place, and eventually the people will try to organize some sort of resistance. I think they got the idea from your world."

Taichi had offered to go, but Agumon had refused.

"It's Digimon-only," he said, looking regretful, "or else I'd have made you come myself. But when I get back I'll tell you everything, and you can tell me what you think."

The letter Taichi is reading had been in a large white professional-looking envelope and had been addressed to 'Taichi Yagami, Leader of the Original DigiDestined." As far as he can make out, it's from some organization of politicians and scientists, asking him to come talk to them about the Digiworld.

He shrugs and puts it back on the table. There's a phone number on the top of the letter. He'll call it in the morning and see what it's all about.

He picks up his carton of rice and wonders how Yamato is doing in Shimane. Probably still sitting around feeling sorry for himself, he surmises. Ah, well, that's Yamato for you.

Taichi _misses_ him. He sometimes thinks that Yamato is actually in the room, he thinks about him so constantly. He will be thinking about something else entirely, and the image of Yamato's quiet smile, sliding suddenly across his face, will rise unbidden in Taichi's mind, and Taichi will find that he is smiling, too, just at the thought. He hears in his head conversations they've had, and makes up ones that they might be having if Yamato were here. He remembers wistfully the battles, the camaraderie, the joy of working together to defeat an enemy. He thinks about how Yamato's music has changed over years, about the sound of the lonely harmonica drifting through their camp, the lilt of his guitar, the increasing sophistication of his song lyrics, the way Yamato can twist his voice just _so_ , so that Taichi's heart twists too.

He thinks about the bad moments, too, all the time. He remembers the night of the kiss, the hatred that had been in Yamato's face and his words, and is simultaneously saddened for himself and for Yamato, who had been so hurt, so betrayed. He thinks of the jogress. He thinks of that time, back in the beginning, in the Digiworld, where Yamato had turned to the dark. He remembers clearly once, when Yamato'd come over after visiting his mom, he'd thrown a shoe at the wall and just _screamed_. He thinks of Yamato's cool facade, his self-loathing, his insecureness. All his neuroses.

He'd heard a song once, where the singer had claimed that, in a sea of eyes, he could pick out his lover's. Taichi could do that, easy, and more. He could pick out Yamato's guitar-playing, his habits, probably even his _thoughts_. This is what love is, he thinks, to know someone entirely, to know their flaws and strengths, and just _care_ so much, even when that person is being stupid or annoying or cruel. It's an enormous feeling, like being filled up as full as you can get, and then a little bit fuller.

But he hates that he has to love Yamato from afar, that they can't even be _friends_ anymore.

He sighs and puts down the now-empty carton. This is the way it is, he tells himself sternly. Just _deal_ with it.

A few minutes later, as he is making a mess of his dinner, there is a sudden thundering at the door. Someone is knocking on it violently, as if they want to break it into a million pieces.

"Huh," says Taichi, and gets up to open it. He looks through the peephole, and his stomach drops when he sees the familiar head of golden hair.

Oh god.

He takes a steadying breath and then opens the door. On the other side Yamato is glaring at him vehemently.

Yamato looks _awful_. His hair is all matted and knotty and sticking up in the back and his eyes are rimmed dark with lack of sleep. Whatever he's wearing is slumped and wrinkled and fraying, and it's black so the pieces of lint and hair collected on it gleam in the waning sunlight. He looks angry and drained and sad. Taichi wants to gather Yamato in his arms, let his head rest on his shoulder, run his hands through his unruly hair.

"Yamato," Taichi breathes, unable to stop himself.

" _Yagami_ ," Yamato hisses back.

Taichi snaps back to himself and opens the door wide. "Please come in," he says politely. "Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?"

" _No_ ," Yamato snarls, pushing himself through the doorway. He doesn't take his shoes off, nor does he move towards the sofa. He just stands there, right inside the door, and glowers. It is all Taichi can do to stop himself from crossing the distance between them and running his hands over Yamato's face. Instead he closes the door carefully after Yamato and stands facing him, putting his hands in his pockets and waiting for whatever Yamato is here to say.

It is slow in coming. Yamato continues glaring, as if keeping at it long enough will turn Taichi to stone.

After a while, Taichi realizes that Yamato isn't going to start the conversation.

He clears his throat, a little anxiously. "Well?" he says.

Yamato's scowl, if possible, deepens. "I just have one question for you," he says, brisk and cross.

"Okay," Taichi replies immediately, "anything."

He means it, too, whatever Yamato wants to know he will surrender the information. Whatever Yamato wants, he will give.

" _Why_ ," says Yamato with such force that Taichi actually takes a step back. Yamato pauses, and Taichi can see then that behind his anger Yamato is so upset that he is on the verge of tears. "Why did you stop talking to me?"

Taichi wants to cry, too, at that. He hates how much he has hurt Yamato. He betrayed Yamato's trust that night, with that kiss, and then betrayed it all over again the next day when he stopped talking to him. But it couldn't be avoided, even if he'd reminded Yamato what had happened that night, it wouldn't have helped, it would have still been a betrayal, Yamato would have hated him even more for it. Taichi thought that letting Yamato forget would be easier for them both, that Yamato would just think that they were drifting apart or something. That he wouldn't have to hate Taichi.

Clearly he had been wrong.

"You were my _best friend_ ," Yamato continues, obviously on a roll now, "I thought you were my best friend! I needed you, and you just _left_. I thought it was because of Sora, but apparently it wasn't, so _why_ \- why - "

He breaks off and lowers his gaze to the floor. He uncrosses his arms and puts a hand on his forehead, broodingly. He lowers it and crosses his arms again.

There is silence for a few moments, Taichi staring at Yamato, Yamato relentlessly studying the carpet.

"I'm sorry," Taichi manages to get out, finally, barely managing to hold back his tears.

Yamato looks up, looking astonished. "You're _sorry_?" he repeats, cruelly mocking. "That's all you have to say for yourself?"

He makes a noise like disgust somewhere in the back of his throat and then looks away again determinedly.

"No," says Taichi, cross all of a sudden, "if you'd let me _finish_ \- "

"I didn't interrupt you!" Yamato interrupts.

"I was _gathering my thoughts_ ," Taichi says, narrowing his eyes. "This isn't an easy thing to say."

"Say it," says Yamato shortly.

Yamato is still not looking at him. He's looking at the wall, or at least facing it, his eyes far away.

Taichi won't stand for it.

"Look at me, then!" he almost shouts.

Yamato does, and Taichi immediately wishes he hadn't asked him to. Having those intense blue eyes focused on him, like an interrogation lamp, does nothing to enhance his concentration.

He takes another deep, steadying breath, and meets Yamato's gaze as evenly as he can.

"You asked me to," he says simply.

" _What_?" says Yamato. "I did _not_ \- "

"Just because you don't remember it doesn't mean it didn't happen," Taichi retorts. He can't help but say it a little bitterly.

Yamato's brow wrinkles and his eyes narrow. "Oh yeah?" he says. " _When_?"

"August 6th, 20-," Taichi replies promptly. "Two and a half years ago."

Yamato looks surprised by this. Taichi watches his expression shift, and supposes he vaguely remembers the events of that night. At least the events _leading up_ to that night.

"I didn't," he says, but his voice is soft and unsure now.

"You _did_ ," says Taichi, heavily.

Yamato is still looking directly at Taichi, so hard it almost hurts, as if trying to gauge the truth of his words. They stand like this for a few moments, just looking at each other. Yamato's arms are still crossed over his chest, protectively. He looks sad and hurt still, but also thoughtful.

Taichi realizes suddenly how hard he's been breathing. He feels as if he's been out running for the past ten minutes.

"Oh," says Yamato eventually. "Well. I was drunk, wasn't I? I didn't mean it. You can talk to me again."

Taichi looks at Yamato, hard, and is tempted. He could pretend that it was the same as before, that he'd never kissed Yamato, that'd he'd never realized how much he loves him, that they are still just _friends_.

"Please," Yamato adds, quietly. He is giving Taichi a look he recognizes, a look that says, _You moron. Is that all?_ Taichi kind of wants to kiss him for it.

But he knows what he has to do.

"I _can't_ ," he answers, just as quietly.

Yamato looks immensely frustrated. "Taichi," he says. "Why _not_? You're my best friend, I _miss_ you! If that's all it was - "

"It's not," Taichi interrupts. He wants to cry again. If his emotions jump around much more today he will just die of emotional exhaustion. "Don't you want to know _why_ you said that?"

Yamato's face freezes.

"Don't you want to know why you said you never wanted to see me again?" Taichi continues. He runs a hand through his own hair, even though that usually only makes it messier.

"I said that?" Yamato asks, so quietly it's almost imperceptible. He looks a bit shocked at himself, a bit scared.

Taichi nods. "You said," he adds, quite unable to stop himself even though he doesn't want Yamato to hear this, "you said you _hated_ me."

He almost does cry then. Somehow he stops himself, but he's sure his face is crumpling up anyway. He closes his eyes and puts his hand over his face, just in case.

There's a brief silence. Then -

"Oh, god," says Yamato's voice in consternation, "I'm the worst friend ever. I don't deserve the crest! I'm sure I didn't _mean_ it, just forget I said it - "

Taichi opens his eyes and sees, through his fingers, that Yamato is reaching out for him. He jerks away just in time.

"Stop," he says flatly.

Yamato does. His arm drops to his side. He looks confused.

"Tai," he starts.

He has to get it over with, Taichi realizes. He has to _say_ it. He has to say it now.

He has to make Yamato understand.

"Because I kissed you," he says loudly. "There! Now do you get it?"

Yamato's face goes from confused to shocked, then straight back to confused. And then, to Taichi's surprise, he starts to laugh.

"Is that _all_?" he manages to get out, and then laughs some more. He is laughing hard enough that he is bent over with the effort.

"Wh- what's funny?" Taichi asks, completely bewildered.

Yamato keeps laughing. Taichi starts to feel a little hurt. _He_ doesn't see that anything is funny at _all_.

" _God_ ," Yamato chokes out, "so much drama over a stupid drunken _mistake_! You should have just _told_ me, we would have laughed it off, we would have been _fine_ \- "

Taichi scowls. "It wasn't a mistake," he says, emphatically.

That shuts Yamato up. He straightens himself and stares at Taichi, his face suddenly a carefully arranged blank.

"I mean," Taichi amends. "I didn't _mean_ to do it at the time, I didn't think about it or anything, but - "

Yamato is still staring, completely impassive. Taichi wonders what he is thinking. He might as well be made of stone for all the emotion he's showing.

"But," he continues. "I _meant_ it. I didn't know I meant it, but - "

He pauses and just looks at Yamato. He cannot _stand_ this. Yamato is _still_ staring, face blank as you please. Taichi just wants him to _react_ , to do something, _anything_! He feels, somewhat irrationally, like he is the only one who gives a shit about all of this.

"Oh, hell with it," he says, and crosses the distance between them. He takes that vacant face gently in his hands, and kisses Yamato for the second time.

It's nice, it's _wonderful,_ but it won't last. Yamato tenses up the second Taichi touches him, and his lips against Taichi's are small and tight with anger. Any minute now he will push Taichi away and run out of the apartment.

So Taichi draws back and looks Yamato in the eyes.

Yamato looks shocked and angry, just as he had the last time. Taichi's stomach twists. _Well_ , he tells himself, _at least he knows now. And he won't forget this time_. But, _God_ , he still has to _say_ it.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I love you," he says. Then he touches his own lips to Yamato's one last time, just barely brushing them, and then lets go, steps back.

That's it, then. It's _over_.

Yamato stares at him for one eternity-long second and then turns and walks out the door.


	13. Throw Away My Misery

_Throw away my misery -_   
_It never meant that much to me._   
_It never sent a get-well card._   
_-The Weakerthans, Reconstruction Site_

* * *

The sun is setting over distant Tokyo; behind the brisk outline of buildings the sky flares bright orange and pink. The train bullets along, shuddering with speed, and through his dim reflection in the dusty window Yamato absently watches the yellow-tinted landscape fly by.

This morning he'd awoken to the sound of a harsh wind howling through the trees outside his house. Above its high shriek he could hear leaves fluttering and branches crashing. The resulting cacophony had struck him as terrifyingly beautiful, a musical masterpiece of sorts, a symphony of chaos, and he had laid in bed listening intently to it until Gabumon came in with his breakfast.

Later, he had plugged his guitar into an amp and a synthesizer and attempted to recreate the dark energy he'd felt. He'd built up a wonderful dissonance of chords by layering recordings over each other in a heavy and powerful swell of emotions when Gabumon came in with his paws over his ears to ask what the terrible din was about.

"No one appreciates my genius," Yamato had retorted, but he'd put the guitar down and gone into the kitchen to help Gabumon with lunch.

Things are coming together, he thinks, they really are. He spends his days in a state of quiet introspection rather than sullen despondency, and he feels as if he is getting back to his roots, to the things that really matter - his music, mainly, but more than that, simpler things like cooking and joking around with Gabumon and organizing his CDs alphabetically and making his bed in the morning. He writes his father emails every morning, and he talks on the phone with Takeru at least once a week.

Yamato smiles at the thought of his brother, who is in the process of publishing his first book. On the phone, Takeru's voice is a mix of anxiety and excitement as he talks too rapidly for Yamato to follow, detailing the latest changes his editor is pushing and the constant battle over choosing a cover.

"It's _based_ on Hikari's photo," Takeru says almost every time Yamato talks to him. "I just don't _understand_ why they want to put some underdressed hipster girl on the front instead. I swear my publicists don't know the first thing about literature!"

Yamato always laughs briefly at this. "Just don't sell out, Takeru. That's what I did with the Wolves' first album and it set me back _years_."

"I'm not _selling out_ ," Takeru replies grumpily. "It's just the _cover_."

The Shimane house is looking better every day, thanks in part to Gabumon. The summer months are always beautiful in Shimane, and Yamato and Gabumon have taken up some mild gardening. In the front, they have planted ginkaku-ji azaleas and white irises next to a tiny pond. One sunny afternoon, after hours of planting iris bulbs and with dirt under his fingernails and smeared down his arms, Yamato had been sitting next to the pond with Gabumon, and had been struck with an idea.

"Be right back," he had told Gabumon, jumping up. He had raced inside and grabbed the tiny glass bowl that Kagututi, his beta fish, lived in. Then he'd gone back outside, more slowly now, clutching the bowl between both hands and gazing thoughtfully at the morose-looking fish.

"You're not going to let him go, are you, Yamato?" Gabumon had asked warily as he'd seen Yamato's reapproach. "I don't think that fish will survive in this pond."

"Maybe not," Yamato had replied, undaunted, "but I at least have to let him _try_."

And lo and behold, the fish had survived. To this day, Kagututi darted jauntily to and fro in the pond, looking happier and more satisfied than he ever had in his bowl. Even his fishy scowl seemed to have lightened.

"It's because he's _free_ ," Yamato had told Gabumon matter-of-factly. "Free to express his _fishness_ in the type of environment truly befitting a fish."

"Sometimes, my friend," Gabumon had answered, his voice grave, "I truly fear for your sanity."

In the backyard, they had planted a vegetable garden, including traditional vegetables such as cucumber, radish, eggplant and cabbage, as well as more Western vegetables such as tomatoes, garlic, onions and Yamato's favorite, a strange type of lettuce known as dinosaur kale. They had even planted a cherry tree and an apple tree.

With such a bountiful garden returning such strange combinations of food, Yamato had been forced back into the kitchen, where he had to find ways to put, for example, sweet potato, bamboo shoots and spinach into the same entree. Culinary creativity, he had thusly decided, was born out of whatever was lying about in the kitchen at any given time.

 _If your next album doesn't sell_ , Yamato's father had written in one of his emails after hearing about this, _you should start a restaurant for the adventurous gastronomer. Call it_ Some Food I Had Lying Around.

In fact, Yamato's next album, his first solo album, is almost completely finished. He has converted part of the bathhouse out back into a recording studio, a brilliant move, he'd thought, considering the unusually sonorous acoustics of most bathing rooms. He'd sent some of the recordings to his producer in Tokyo, who had immediately started marketing the album and set a release date for later in the year.

"Brilliant," he had told Yamato forcefully, "just brilliant. Ponderous, wandering, pontificous - I love it. It'll sell like hotcakes."

Of course, Yamato isn't happy with it quite yet himself. There are some great tracks, sure, but it's missing something a little more high energy - like the stuff he recorded this morning. And the whole album doesn't flow from one track to the next yet, either. Worse, however, is the prospect of facing his disappointed fans who, expecting another Teenage Wolves album, will probably be _shocked_ at the change in tone on this one.

Oh well, he thinks. Who wants fans who can't understand a little bit of a different style _anyway_.

There is only one thing in Yamato's life that he hasn't quite made sense of yet.

 _Taichi_.

Yamato hasn't spoken to him since, well, since _the event_ , and has managed to avoid thinking about it almost entirely. Every time Taichi's face rises unbidden to his mind, he studiously begins thinking about something else - _rutabagas, rutabagas, I wonder how rutabagas would taste with ginger and cardamom?_ \- until the face fades.

Yamato realizes that this is not healthy. This is why he's on a train to Tokyo, to visit Takeru and Hikari and talk to them about it, and, just maybe, go see Taichi afterwards.

Well, and to check out his father's fancy new office on the executive floor of the TV Tokyo building, and to investigate the possibility of having Koushiro set up a transport link between Shimane and Tokyo by passing through the Digiworld. And to pick up some yakitori at his favorite stand downtown. But that's all beside the point. Which is -

 _Taichi,_ Yamato reminds himself, and sighs moodily. It's obvious enough to Yamato that he misses his best friend something desperate. That was made clear two months ago, when he had felt it so necessary to barge into Taichi's apartment demanding explanations. Now he's got the explanation, all right, but he doesn't know what to do with it. His mind can't seem to find the edges of the problem in order to fully grasp it, as if an endless undulating blanket of blankness has crept steadily over his brain. He feels fuzzy and confused, lost in a labyrinth of half-formed questions and far-away feelings that flit away nervously whenever he tries to take a closer look.

Outside the window, the train has reached the edges of the Shinagawa district. Glittering high-rises whip past, splinters of the sea dancing into view for split seconds between buildings. The train begins to slow, and Yamato, seeing the familiar urban landscape and bustling crowds of people, allows himself a distant half-smile.

Sleeping somewhere in this city, he thinks, in the echoes of his past or the whispers of his future, is the answer to his problem with Taichi. And he will not leave again until he finds it.


	14. A Different Kind Of Strength

When Takeru asked Hikari if Yamato could stay with them for a few days, she had hesitated for a moment before agreeing. After all, she was the one closest to Taichi, the most frequent witness to his anguished lows and love-giddy highs. Was it so surprising that she felt a momentary burst of resentment toward her brother-in-law upon Takeru's request? But she let it pass.

"Of course he can stay with us. After all," she said, with an attempt at a smile, "my brother's over _all_ the time. It's only fair."

Takeru kissed her on the cheek. "You're the best," he said, then uncovered the microphone on his cell. "Yeah, you can stay with us. What dates did you say again?"

Hikari heard Yamato's muffled voice reply echo through the tinny cell phone speaker. Takeru's weekly phone calls to Yamato had started right after the disaster in the Digiworld. At first Hikari noticed that Takeru was unusually terse and abrupt on the phone, still bubbling over with anger at Yamato's thoughtless and poorly-timed disappearance. But over the last few months, Takeru's voice had softened and the conversations had grown in length. Last Saturday's call had lasted two hours. Hikari wasn't sure she'd ever seen the two of them talk in person for anything like that amount of time.

Maybe Yamato's stay in Shimane had done him some good after all, she had decided. She only hoped that meant he'd start talking to her brother again.

Now Yamato is at her front door and she's regretting everything. Letting the person who'd broken her brother's heart into her home feels like the worst kind of betrayal. Even if that person is her brother-in-law. She opens the door when it rings, and there he is, slouching by the door frame, hands in his pockets, looking as coolly casual and disinterested as he had at age sixteen. _Jerk,_ she thinks, then feels immediately repentant. Taichi has forgiven him, so why shouldn't she?

She opens her mouth to say hello, or to tell him to get out, she isn't sure which. Before she can speak, Yamato reaches out and pulls her into a quick embrace. He kisses the top of her head chastely, then sweeps past her into the house, talking a mile a minute. Hikari feels herself blush as she raises her hand to the top of her head, feeling flustered. She hasn't seen him in such a good mood for a long time.

"I can't thank you enough for letting me stay," Yamato is saying. "I know it must be weird for you, having me here, considering everything. So _thank you_ , Hikari, I really do appreciate it."

"Umm," says Hikari, closing the door with a click, "sure."

"I thought about having Gabumon come, but figured he could use a trip back to the Digiworld. He's probably sick of me anyway, I know I've been driving him up the wall. I should really do something nice for him, he's been so good to me lately. Are Tailmon and Patamon here?"

"Yep," says Tailmon, peering around the kitchen doorway into the living room. "Hello, Yamato."

"Good to see you," he replies, with a genuine if fleeting smile. "Hey, let me know if you have any ideas for something I could do for Gabumon. I have a lot to repay him for."

"Hmm," says Tailmon. "I'll think about it."

"Take him to dinner!" says Patamon, fluttering into the room. "Taichi takes Agumon to dinner at fancy restaurants downtown, and Agumon _never_ shuts up about it. He says the food is unbelievable. I bet Gabumon would like that!"

Hikari freezes at the mention of her brother, looking over at Yamato anxiously for any signs of reaction. But she doesn't see even a moment of hesitation before he responds, sounding sincerely grateful.

"That's a good idea, Patamon, thanks. Gabumon loves good food nearly as much as Agumon does."

"Takeru's not home yet," Hikari says, changing the subject. "He's running a writer's workshop a few times a week. He should be on his way now."

"That was today?" Yamato asks, looking crestfallen. "That's too bad. I was hoping to sit in on it. See my little brother, all grown up and teaching classes. Plus, I have a song I'm working on that could use some workshopping."

Hikari's heart warms at the idea. "Takeru would just love that," she says, and means it. "You should definitely go to the next one. It's in three days."

"I'll be there," Yamato promises. Patamon cheers and does a celebratory spin in the air. Hikari can't help but smile at Yamato, her earlier hesitation to let him in the house soothed. Takeru needs his older brother around, after all.

Patamon hovers over to the television set. "Is it okay if I watch for a while?" he says. "My favorite show is on, and I don't want to miss it."

"Your favorite show?" Yamato asks, curiosity crossing his face.

"Sokkuri Sweets!" Patamon says excitedly. "It's a game show where you have to guess if something is a sweet or not. Then you bite into it and find out."

"Huh," says Yamato.

"Last episode a man bit into what looked like a shoe!" Patamon says. "Except it turned out it was made of confectioner's sugar. It was _hilarious._ "

"Sounds fun," Yamato says with an indulgent smile.

"Go ahead," Hikari says. She leaves Patamon to his show and ushers Yamato into the kitchen, where she handles the awkwardness of the situation by making tea and preparing an elaborate tray of snacks. Yamato keeps up his unusual verbosity as she works, alternately filling her in on his admittedly very romantic-sounding rural life in Shimane and asking her questions about her and Takeru's lives. Tailmon stands next to her protectively, watching Yamato with wariness evident in her half-lidded eyes.

"Can I see some of your photographs?" he asks at one point, with such earnestness that Hikari can't help nodding her agreement. "Takeru's told me about them, of course, but that's not the same as seeing them for yourself."

"Okay," Hikari agrees. "Maybe later?"

After the tea is made they stand in the kitchen with steaming-hot mugs in hand, exchanging more small talk. Hikari catches Yamato up on the latest news about everyone but Taichi. She talks about how Mimi's idea for a fashion start-up has gone viral online, how despite Jyou's years of struggling through his schoolwork he's already turning out to be a better and more compassionate doctor than his straight-A schoolmates. How Sora's dry, academic talk at a conference about her master's thesis in psychology ended up getting her an interview on a popular true-crime podcast. But she doesn't bring up her brother, and Yamato doesn't ask.

Before long the conversation falters and Hikari finds herself fiddling with her mug, turning it around and around in her hands and wondering what to say next. The strange way they're _not_ talking about Taichi has left her feeling tongue-tied and mind blank.

"Shall I show you those photographs?" she says finally, after the awkwardness has stretched the length of several minutes.

"Please," says Yamato, looking relieved but also honored. She puts down her tea mug and leads the way into the cluttered office that she and Takeru share.

* * *

When Yamato enters the office and sees the explosion of papers, pens, photograph prints, books, empty mugs, and unidentifiable mystery objects covering every visible surface, he can't help but smile. His studio in Shimane is similarly overrun, despite the glimmering neatness of the house itself. He finds that creativity thrives in chaos, and it seems Takeru and Hikari work the same way.

"Umm," says Hikari, "sorry about the mess."

"Don't be. I love it," Yamato says, and means it. He loves pretty much anything that he and Takeru have in common. They're brothers, of course, but because they grew up in separate homes and spent so many years apart, any little trait or habit they share feels like a lost treasure. Like proof. Or maybe like a promise, that the bond they share goes too deep to ever be broken.

Hikari glances back at him. "Really?" she says, surprised.

"Really?" repeats Tailmon wryly. When Yamato nods, Hikari smiles before reaching for the closest pile and riffling through it.

"A lot of people do all their photography work on the computer these days," she says with her back to him, "but I like to print copies out while I'm working. See what it looks like once it's translated from digital to reality. You catch more that way. Here."

She hands him a photograph and immediately turns back to the stack, resuming her search. Yamato notices a slight blush creeping up her cheeks and realizes she's nervous of his reaction. He glances down at the paper in his hand absently. Then, instantly transfixed by the image, he brings it closer to his face for a better look. He can't quite tell what the subject of the photograph is, because the zoom is so high. It looks like maybe the photograph was taken through a rain-washed window, looking out over the city. It's all blurred, vibrant colors and dark, stormy energy. It has the same raw emotionality as the piece he'd picked out on the guitar not that long ago.

"Hikari," he breathes, "this is incredible."

"Really? You think so?" says Hikari, turning to him and radiating pride.

"I didn't even know you could do this with a picture," he says honestly. He looks at it again. "It looks like..."

"A painting?" Tailmon supplies, her tail twisting in circles behind her. "That's what everyone says."

"No, that's not it. It looks like..." He pauses again, frustrated by his own inability to put what he's thinking into words. "When we first got back from the Digiworld, I couldn't concentrate in school. I would look out the window and picture Gabumon's face, picture the bright-green leaves on the trees and the too-blue color of the sky. I would remember the fights, great roaring Digimon looming over the seven of us, and us somehow prevailing despite it all. I'd wonder if any of it was real."

And then he'd see Taichi barreling toward him in the hallway between classes, with those ridiculous goggles and that impossibly bushy hair. Taichi would clap him on the shoulder and just _grin_ , and Yamato knew that his memories were real, that it had all happened. How else would someone like Taichi ever have agreed to be Yamato's friend? He was impossibly bright, just like the Digiworld. Yamato remembered, in those moments, being overwhelmed by surprise and gratitude that the crest of friendship had chosen _him_ as his bearer, that somehow someone as prickly and standoffish as himself had ended up with Taichi Yagami as his friend.

There had been a small part of him, even then, that hadn't expected it to last.

"That's what the picture looks like," he says, finally.

He puts the picture back down on the desk and sees Hikari looking at him with an odd expression. "That's exactly right," she says. "That's _exactly_ the feeling I was trying to capture."

She turns back to the stacks, a small satisfied smile gracing her lips. "That's what I love about photography," she says conversationally as she searches. "You really can _capture_ things in a photograph. Barely-remembered moments, fleeting feelings. You can stop time, turn the temporary into the eternal."

Yamato is barely listening. A photograph peeking out from a nearby stack has caught his eye. A flash of yellow, brown and blue that somehow calls for him to look closer. He reaches for it without thinking.

_Oh_ , he thinks once he's pulled the photograph free and brought it up to his face. Like the other photograph, the image is so zoomed-in that it's hard to tell what the subject is. Like the other photograph, it invokes a feeling so strong Yamato could choke on it. It feels like bright yellow sunshine, like a sudden ray of warm, golden light tilted across a wooden floor. It feels like an unexpected snow day, with classes canceled and everyone you love huddled around a blazing orange fire. It feels like a homecoming.

It's Taichi. Taichi in profile, only part of his face and a lock of his wild brown hair in frame, more intimately close than Yamato's seen him in years. Behind him a sun spot glints, bathing the whole photograph in honey-colored light. He can't make out the out-of-focus blue and white shapes in the background but he thinks it's maybe Taichi on a green field, Taichi in repose, Taichi in the summertime.

Just two months ago, this picture would have enraged Yamato. Filled him with an inexpressible well of anger. Made him spend days picturing Taichi happily going about his life without Yamato, maybe with Sora in his arms. It would have inflamed an anger that was really just a thin veneer over a sense of loss that felt oceans deep.

But all that had changed the day he'd confronted Taichi. Now, looking at the picture, he feels only one thing.

_I want him back._

"Which one are you looking at?" asks Hikari out of nowhere, breaking his train of thought.

"It's a picture of Taichi," he says, softly. Hikari freezes, an odd expression on her face, then walks over to see which picture he has in his hand. Her face softens when she sees what he's looking at.

"That's one of my favorites, too. But how did you know it was Taichi?" she says, tapping the edge of the picture curiously.

"What do you mean?" Yamato replies. "Of course that's Taichi."

Hikari gives him a skeptical look. "Mom thought it was an extreme close-up of an anpan roll."

"Is she blind? That's obviously him!"

"Takeru thought it was Leomon," Tailmon adds.

"That's ridiculous," Yamato scoffs. Hikari rewards him with a small smile. Yamato looks at her, feeling nervous, and decides to take advantage of her good mood and take the plunge.

"How is he?" he says, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet office. "Taichi, I mean."

Hikari instantly tenses. "Fine," she says stiffly. "He's fine. No thanks to you." Yamato winces, and she moves as if to leave.

"Wait," says Yamato. "Hikari-"

He pauses, trying to put his thoughts into words. It's so quiet in the interim that the sound of the front door swinging open is audible all the way in the office.

"I'm home!" calls Takeru. "Yamato, are you here yet?"

Yamato is both disappointed and relieved. The three of them wordlessly shift toward Takeru's voice. They meet him in the hallway to the kitchen, Patamon flying behind him like a medieval courtier's flag heralding his arrival. Takeru is wearing yet another of his absurd hats and carrying a fashionable but worn leather satchel. His blue eyes are quivering in excitement.

"Yamato!" he exclaims, pulling Yamato into an easy embrace. Yamato hugs him back, envious as ever of his brother's ability to be so unabashedly affectionate. Takeru hugs like he means it, so Yamato tries to return the gesture. He holds his brother tight.

Then Takeru pulls away, laughing, and gives Hikari a quick kiss in greeting. When he pulls away he looks into her face and frowns.

"What were you two talking about before I got here?" he says suspiciously.

"Nothing," says Hikari at the same time as Yamato replies, "Taichi."

"Huh," says Takeru, then visibly shrugs it off. "Well, that's a conversation that needs to happen, I guess, but I'm starving. Let's go into the kitchen and talk there." He heads for the kitchen without waiting for a response.

In the kitchen, Takeru busies himself making ramen while Yamato and Hikari lean against opposite walls and eye each other warily. Patamon and Tailmon hover near their partners. It makes Yamato wish that he'd brought Gabumon along, just so he'd have that same unwavering support in his corner.

"How _dare_ you," says Hikari eventually, uncharacteristically icy and cold. "How can you stand there and ask me how Taichi is doing with a straight face, after you just walked out on him like that?"

Yamato suddenly can't look at her. _She's right_. He knows she's right. He trains his gaze on the tile floor, guilt washing over him in waves.

"Once was bad enough," Hikari says, pressing on relentlessly, "but _twice_? Twice you leave my brother out in the cold, just for telling you he loves you! Some friend _you_ are."

"Hikari, that's enough," Takeru breaks in, turning from his steaming pot to give her a stern look.

"No, it's okay," Yamato says, in a voice so soft that he has to repeat it. "No, it's okay, Takeru. Hikari's right."

Takeru throws his hands up in defeat. "Maybe so," he admits to Hikari, "but did you have to be so harsh?"

"I would have been harsher," Tailmon says dryly.

"To the person who told my brother he _hated_ him?" Hikari counters. "You have no idea how hard it was for me to open the door to him this afternoon."

"...Maybe we should have talked about this before Yamato arrived," Takeru says in an undertone. "Maybe I should have been here."

Hikari looks away. "Maybe," she admits. "But he's your _brother_ , Takeru. We have to sort this out."

They look at one another, seeming to reach an understanding, and then look at Yamato expectantly. With both their eyes on him so piercingly, he can't help but look down at the floor again.

"I don't know why I walked out," he says, "when - when Taichi told me he loved me." The words feel strange on his tongue, as strange as they'd seemed coming from Taichi's lips, like looking up one day and seeing that the sky was flamingo pink instead of blue, had always been flamingo pink and it was only you who had ever thought otherwise.

"I guess I was just..." _Shocked. Overwhelmed. In disbelief. Having the entirety of my reality rewritten right before my eyes._

"I guess I just didn't know what to say," he concludes, lamely. When Hikari looks unconvinced, he forces more words out somehow. He doesn't have the slightest idea what he's going to say next. The words seem to be coming from somewhere inside him that he's not even aware of. "I walked in that day thinking that he hated me, and I was going to pry the reason why from him no matter what it took. Then at least I'd _know_. I thought maybe that would have been some small comfort.

"But then I got there, and everything was different. Flipped, opposite. I'd been thinking he was being _so horrible_ by not talking to me, and it turned out that I was the horrible one. That I told _him_ to never talk to me again. That _he_ thought I hated him. It was like finding out that all the evil Digimon we've killed over the years were actually the good guys just trying to save the world, and we were somehow the villains. That part was my worst nightmare coming true, just like when we were eleven and you all had to fight me, save me from the worst version of myself."

Takeru has stopped cooking and is looking at Yamato, love and concern written all over his face. Hikari is listening just as intently, her cold expression slowly melting. Their attentive faces give him the encouragement he needs to keep pressing forward.

"It wasn't all nightmare, though. Hearing that Taichi didn't hate me was nothing less than a dream come true. It was what I hadn't allowed myself to dare hope for, that everything might be okay, that it could all go back to the way it was. That I could have my best friend back.

"I don't know why I ran," he confesses. "I really don't. The world was shifting under my feet so drastically, I didn't know what to do or how to feel. I just had the urge to go back home to Shimane, where the earth was stable. Where I could hear myself think. It's not a good excuse, and it doesn't make you less right, Hikari, but there it is."

He stops, finally emptied of words, and looks at his brother and sister-in-law. Ready for their verdict. Guilty or innocent, he will accept whichever he's given.

"Home to Shimane," Takeru repeats, almost to himself.

_Oh_ , Yamato thinks. That had slipped out entirely without thinking. But, he is surprised to realize, it is true, isn't it? The place he'd sought out as a temporary refuge has somehow become more his home than his and Sora's apartment in Tokyo ever had been. More than his dad's place had when he was younger, even.

"Yeah," he says sheepishly, stuffing his hands in his pockets out of sheer nervous habit. "I guess it is home, now."

"So you're not coming back, after all," says Takeru. Slowly, like he's testing Yamato, like he can't quite believe what he's hearing.

"I guess not. But I'm going to talk to Koushiro, tomorrow," Yamato says, hoping to console his brother with this. "See if maybe he can set up a permanent link from Shimane to Tokyo through the gates. If he can, it'll be like I live in Tokyo anyway. And you could come visit anytime."

"You know, it's my house too," Takeru says.

_Crap_ , Yamato thinks, _that's right_. He stares at Takeru, suddenly panicked.

After a minute of desperate eye contact Takeru relents. "It's yours, of course. Take it. I'm just going to miss you, is all. I mean, I already miss you, you stupid sod."

"I miss you too," Yamato says softly. Because he's trying to be truthful for once, it's not as hard as it usually is to get the words out. To admit his vulnerability, even in front of the little brother he's supposed to protect.

_Be strong, for your brother_ , the echo of his parents still murmurs somewhere in the back of his mind. For today, he ignores it. Today he's practicing a different kind of strong.

Takeru sighs, resigned. "That house better be worth it."

"I'd love to show you," says Yamato. "Come visit, and you'll see."

Takeru nods. "Okay," he agrees. "If that's what you want."

Hikari clears her throat. "I have a question," she says, her mild brown eyes boring into Yamato's.

"Yes?" says Yamato, nervously. Here it is then. The moment of truth. His verdict, straight from the mouth of the one other person who knows Taichi best in the world besides himself. It's almost like hearing it straight from Taichi himself. Hearing whether any of this is fixable. Whether anything can be saved.

"If you could go back," Hikari says. Slowly, thoughtfully. As if to stress the importance of Yamato's answer to her next question. "What would you do? What would you say? Instead of just walking out, I mean."

It's a great question. Probably _the_ question, really. Yamato wishes desperately that he had a great answer. Instead he just opens his mouth and starts talking, hoping that, like before, some fundamental truth will miraculously emerge.

"I'd start with begging for forgiveness. For lashing out so cruelly, before. For saying I hated him, when nothing could be further from the truth. The only thing I ever could have hated was the idea of losing him. I've tried and tried, but I really can't remember anything about that night. I must have thought..." He pauses, letting the swell of emotions and thoughts gathering beneath him rise like a wave. "Sometimes, when I drink, my worst thoughts and deepest fears surface from somewhere deep, deep inside of me. I'm sure I thought that Taichi wanting me _like that_ meant that nothing else between us was real. That's one of my biggest fears, you know. That Taichi's made a mistake, and he'll figure out any minute that I'm not worth his time."

"So you decided to hurt him first," Hikari says bluntly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Before he could hurt you."

Yamato thinks about arguing with her, telling her that he hadn't _decided_ anything. He'd been drunk, and probably scared and angry. He was sure he hadn't been thinking much at all. Instead of arguing, though, he hangs his head. "That's right," he says. "I protected myself first. That's why you're right about me. I'm a shit friend."

"You've _been_ a bad friend," Hikari corrects, voice gentler than it's been all night. "You can fix this, you know."

Yamato looks at her, hard. A guilty verdict, but with a promise of redemption? This is an outcome he hadn't expected. "You really think so?"

Hikari sighs. " _Yes,_ of course. I hate to have to tell you this, Yamato, but the only thing that's coming between you and Taichi right now is you and your fears. That's all."

"You think he'll forgive me, then? Even though I can't seem to stop doing things that hurt him?"

"He has," Hikari says softly, looking a little angry at the thought. "Forgiven you. I can't say I completely understand but-"

"You mean both of you can't seem to stop," Takeru interrupts. "Hurting each other, I mean. You just need to _talk to each other._ Maybe if you actually talked stuff through, all these little misunderstandings wouldn't grow into such looming, unsolvable problems."

"Yeah, you two are friends, right?" chimes in Patamon, effervescent as ever. "Friends talk to each other, right? I don't understand why humans have to make everything so difficult."

Yamato swallows anxiously. "I can't talk to him. I wouldn't know what to say."

"Oh, come on! Just tell him what you've been telling us!" Hikari exclaims. "Is that so hard?"

"It's not that," he says. "It's just..."

He studies his feet again, gathering himself. His brown leather shoes are a sharp contrast to the kitchen floor.

"Taichi told me he loved me," he says, almost in a whisper. The words come a little more easily this time, but still he can't wrap his mind around what they mean. Still the whole situation seems unreal. "What can I say to him if I don't have an answer to that? If I don't even know how I feel?"

He can feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him more intently now.

"Sometimes you don't have all the answers," says Tailmon after a long pause. "Sometimes you don't _need_ all the answers before you know what you have to do."

" _Damn_ it," says Hikari, frustration wrinkling her usually kind face. Yamato would take a step backwards if his back weren't already against the kitchen wall. He doesn't think he's ever heard her swear before. " _Goddamnit_ , Yamato. I swear, if you say or do another thing to hurt my brother in the process of _working your feelings out_ , I will - "

She doesn't have a chance to finish. They all hear the sound of the front door swinging open again. A chipper voice calls out from the hallway. It's undeniably Taichi, sounding unguarded and open.

"The stupid washing machine's broken at my place again!" he yells, his voice growing closer to the kitchen with each word. "So I brought my laundry over, hope that's okay!"

Then he's standing in front of them, framed in the kitchen doorway, balancing an enormous hamper full of dirty clothes in his arms. Everything about him is familiar. The golden-brown skin, the cloud of hair, even the look of almost comical surprise that freezes on his face when he sees Yamato.

Behind him Agumon appears, face entirely hidden behind another overflowing hamper of laundry clasped in his claws.

"Oh," says Taichi, sounding stunned. His eyes are wide. Then, he visibly gathers himself. "Umm. I'll just go, then."

"But Taichi," Agumon whines. "You mean we carried all this over here for nothing?"

His yellow face appears from behind his hamper. "Oh," he says in a tone of revelation as he spots Yamato. "Yeah, okay, let's go."

"Wait," says Yamato before Taichi can turn away. He locks eyes with Taichi, willing him to listen. Willing him to understand. "Taichi. Please stay."


	15. In Which Agumon Does Laundry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When trying to think of a title for this chapter I was reminded of the inimitable Diana Wynne Jones' lovely Howl's Moving Castle and its sort-of sequel House of Many Ways, in which cleaning and laundry play prominent roles. Thus the chapter title, in the style of Diana's chapter titles in that marvelous series.
> 
> P.S. In case anyone is interested, Howl's Moving Castle actually has two sort-of sequels, the first of which is titled Castle In The Air. There's very little cleaning in that one, oddly enough, although it too is fabulous.

_Please stay._

Taichi can't believe his ears, he really can't. It must be that Yamato is being polite, smoothing things over for their siblings' sake.

"No, really, it's okay, I'll do my laundry at Koushiro's," he says, already backing out of the room.

"No, wait," says Yamato. He pulls at the little wisps of hair at the back of his neck and scowls darkly at Taichi in frustration. Taichi almost can't stand watching, the gesture is so quintessentially Yamato. "I want you to stay."

He says it with such fervent intensity that Taichi actually believes him. "Okay," says Taichi automatically, helpless to refuse him. He drops the laundry bag on the floor and stares at Yamato, wondering what it is that Yamato wants. Behind him he hears Agumon toss aside his hamper. The silence from his partner is telling. Usually Agumon would expound endlessly about how relieved he is to have a break from carting the heavy laundry down the streets of Tokyo.

He catches Hikari's eye, then. She gives him a small, wan smile that's imbued with a strange mix of emotions he's never seen before. He notices that she's leaned against the wall in an unusually hostile stance, arms crossed. He wonders briefly what they had been talking about before he arrived.

Nobody speaks for another long moment. He and Yamato keep staring at one another, Yamato still scowling. Is that a hint of uncertainty on his face, though? Taichi can't be sure. Maybe it's disappointment. Or anguish?

"Well," he says after the eye contact has lasted an uncomfortable amount of time and still Yamato hasn't said another word. "I'm going to start my laundry then."

Yamato says nothing. He's still staring at Taichi unmovingly, as if he's turned to stone.

"Yamato, why don't you go help him?" Takeru speaks up. His tone is casual, as though he's just had an innocent, whimsical thought from out of the blue. "You've always had such a gift with laundry."

Yamato finally stops staring at Taichi so he can turn and glare at his brother instead. "Takeru," he says, voice low and dangerous.

"That's a good idea," Hikari chimes in, her too-bright voice laced with a knife's edge. "Taichi could _really_ use the help."

Taichi is incredulous. "I'm a grown man. I've been doing my own laundry for years."

"Maybe so, but you don't have Yamato's domestic capabilities," Takeru insists. "I'm sure he could show you a trick or two."

Taichi rolls his eyes. He can see right through Takeru and Hikari's ploy, but he's not sure of their endgame. He catches his sister's eye again, though, and she gives him an almost imperceptible nod. "Fine," he says, relenting. "Yamato, will you please help me with my laundry?"

"You can't be serious," Yamato says, turning his intense blue stare back to Taichi.

"I am," says Taichi, letting his eyes go oh-so-wide and his expression limpid. "Very, very serious."

Yamato's scowl is replaced by the smallest of smiles for a moment so brief Taichi almost thinks he's imagined it. After that, the scowl falls back in place, like a door closing. But Taichi relaxes a little anyway. If he can still make Yamato smile, maybe things aren't as bad as he'd thought between them.

In typical Yamato fashion, he doesn't verbally acquiesce. Instead he pushes himself off the wall and walks over to Agumon. He picks up the tossed-aside hamper and puts it under one arm, somehow managing to look casual and unconcerned despite the pinned-in-place scowl. Then he looks at Taichi expectantly.

Agumon pulls at Taichi's hand. When Taichi leans down so his face is level with his partner's, Agumon cups his two enormous claws together and holds them against Taichi's ear.

"Do you want me to come, too?" he whispers. Taichi considers this. He's sure it would be easier to get Yamato to spit out whatever it is he needs to say without Agumon along. But if he's honest with himself, he wants the support of his partner. What if he and Yamato get in another fistfight? What if Yamato confirms Taichi's fears and says he was right after the first kiss? That he hates Taichi, that he never wants to see him again? Agumon can be Taichi's lifeline, can comfort him or run for Hikari if anything goes wrong.

He nods agreement to Agumon, then rubs his partner's enormous head in a quick, familiar gesture of affection before getting to his feet and grabbing the laundry. He leads the way to the front door, Yamato and Agumon one step behind.

Outside the apartment, the sky is electric blue, the moon as big and bright as a dinner plate. On nights like tonight, when the harvest moon hangs in the air like a great orange beacon, the star-splattered sky in the real world comes alight with such extraordinary brightness that Taichi can pretend he's still eleven years old, seeing the Digiworld for that first, magical time. He can hold that fantasy for a short time at least, until the overlarge moon shrinks to its normal size and the brilliant blue sky fades to ordinary nighttime.

He pauses at the rail to watch. Without a word Yamato joins him, leaning against the rail by his side. With Agumon at his other side, the illusion is more believable than usual. An unreal sky, his Digimon partner, and infuriating, impossible, irrational Yamato, all right here. Taichi feels full to bursting, in this moment, like everything is as it should be. Like the world is perfect, and beautiful. Like every moment of heartbreak was worth it, just to be here, now.

Whatever Yamato has to say to him can wait a few more minutes. Until then, he can hold this fleeting feeling to himself like the precious gift that it is. There's nothing Yamato can do to ruin this magic. Even if Taichi has to hear that Yamato hates him again.

"Taichi," Yamato says, voice low and deep, breaking the spell.

"Yeah?" Taichi replies. He keeps his gaze fixed on the night sky, hoping to stretch that perfect moment just a little bit longer before he is forced to return to reality.

"I ..." Yamato swallows nervously beside him. As if biting back the words that he knows he needs to say. Now Taichi keeps his focus on the sky so that Yamato doesn't have to look him in the eye. He knows Yamato will never get it out otherwise.

"I'm sorry," Yamato gets out eventually. The words come slowly at first, then gather speed, like a rock rolling downhill. "I'm really, _really_ sorry. For walking out that night. For ever saying I hated you. I didn't mean any of it, I could never hate you. I _know_ I'm a horrible friend-"

Taichi's heart swells, if possible, even fuller. _Oh, Yamato_.

"It's okay," he says. He's unable to hide his happiness. His voice comes out light as air, soft as clouds. "Really, it's okay. None of that matters."

He pushes himself back from the railing and smiles at Yamato, feeling more relaxed and happy than he has in weeks. Then, remembering that they're supposed to be doing laundry, he starts down the hallway toward the elevator.

"What do you mean, _none of it matters_?" Yamato says, following him. Taichi can hear Agumon trailing behind, his clawed feet stomping their way steadily down the walkway after them.

"I told you I hated you, and that doesn't _matter_ to you?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"I have no idea what you mean!" Yamato exclaims. Taichi reaches the elevator and presses the down button before turning to look back at Yamato, perplexed. "You can't just _forgive_ me like that when I didn't do anything to deserve it. It's like you don't even care!"

"You're mad at me for not being mad at you?" Taichi says, frowning. The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. He steps to the side, leaving room for Yamato and Agumon. "I don't know what to do with that, Yamato."

Yamato boards the elevator, his face pinched with frustration. Once the still-silent Agumon joins, Taichi hits the button for the third floor, where the laundry room is. The elevator pitches into motion. Taichi feels the momentary shift in gravity that means they're headed downward.

"And you already know how much I care," Taichi adds, after a stretch of silence. "I don't think I need to tell you again."

"That's not what I-" Yamato sighs and brushes a stray lock of golden hair from his face. "How can you just let it go like that? Like it's no big deal? We haven't really talked in _years,_ and you're just willing to forgive and forget that fast?"

The chime for the third floor sounds and the elevator door slides back open. Taichi looks over at Yamato, his blue eyes narrowed and his beloved face still twisted with that same scowl, and feels a rising tide of frustration well up in his chest.

"You want me to be mad at you, Yamato?" he says, exiting the elevator and striding down the third floor walkway at a much quicker pace than before. "Fine. I can be mad."

He storms his way to the laundry room and opens the door in one forceful motion. He can hear Yamato and Agumon behind him, struggling to keep up. He suddenly doesn't care. He drops the laundry basket to the ground and turns to face Yamato. His blood is boiling and his heart racing. He is angry but _god_ is he _alive_ with it.

"What the _hell_ is your problem? You ask for forgiveness and when you actually _get_ it, all you can do is find a way to push all my buttons until I'm _pissed_ at you again. It's like you don't even _want_ to stop fighting! Are you so afraid of things being okay between us that you have to keep screwing everything up all the time?"

Yamato finally catches up, wide-eyed and out of breath. Through the anger Taichi feels a flash of relief that he's finally managed to wipe that stupid scowl off Yamato's face. Yamato just stands there, staring at Taichi and breathing hard. Behind him a concerned-looking Agumon finally reaches the laundry room and enters it, closing the door behind them with one enormous yellow arm.

"No," Yamato says. "It's not that. I really do want everything to be okay again."

He looks away from Taichi as he says it. It's as if he's looking off into the far distance even though in reality he's just staring at a plain white wall smudged with dirt and fingerprints.

"You're my best friend," he says, softly. Almost to himself. "I miss you."

It's the same thing he said to Taichi the other night, the night of the kiss. The same words, even though he _knows_ how Taichi feels now. Hearing them, Taichi allows himself to hope for the first time in months. Years, even. Maybe they _can_ go back to being friends again, after all of this. Maybe it will all turn out okay.

They stand there in silence, Taichi staring at Yamato and Yamato looking through the wall at something beyond it. This silence is more companionable, though, than all the preceding silences. Less tense. Taichi feels his anger slowly fading, being replaced with other, more optimistic emotions.

"Is anyone actually going to start the laundry?" Agumon says finally, breaking the moment. Although his face is calm Taichi can tell he's flustered, unsure of what to do.

Taichi doesn't bother answering. When Yamato doesn't either, Agumon lets out an enormous sigh and picks up the laundry hamper from where Yamato's dropped it on the floor.

"I guess I'll just have to do it, then," he says, prying open the door to the washing machine with a long, sharp claw. He bustles about, loading piles of dirty clothes into machines and pouring soap into soap slots. Taichi wonders vaguely where Agumon learned to do laundry without help. During his weeks of moping after the last event in the Digiworld, probably.

Taichi can't help but smile a little, watching his partner. Who would have thought, all those years ago in the Digiworld, that they'd end up here? With his little yellow monster friend so familiar with the mundanities of the human world that he knows to separate colors from whites?

"I really don't know why I keep screwing this up," Yamato says, and Taichi is pulled back into their conversation with a jolt. "Maybe I'm just afraid that it's already too late, for us. That I already ruined the best thing I ever had, and we can't go back."

"You mean _I_ ruined it," Taichi corrects softly.

"You? You didn't do anything," Yamato says, finally turning to look at Taichi. The scowl doesn't return. For once Yamato's face stays relaxed, open. Taichi is flooded with a mix of relief and contentment. "You just did exactly what I asked you to."

"I started it," Taichi argues. "I'm the one that kissed you. I'm the one that fell in love with you."

"That doesn't _matter_ ," Yamato insists. Then he sighs and tugs at his hair again, looking down at the floor. Taichi is surprised to see a slight blush creep up Yamato's pale face. "I mean, it does, but it doesn't have to change anything. You're still my best friend."

"You're still mine," Taichi counters. "That's not going to change, Yamato. No matter what you say or do, and whether I'm in love with you or not."

For some inexplicable reason Yamato looks annoyed again. "You can't just say stuff like that, Taichi. Friendship can't be _completely_ unconditional. I mean, if I turned dark again, like in the Digiworld-"

"I would find a way to turn you back again," Taichi finishes calmly. _God. Doesn't he get it yet?_ "Just like before."

Yamato lets out a frustrated little huff. "If I tried to blow up Tokyo, or something-"

"You wouldn't do that," Taichi replies, rolling his eyes.

"If I went behind your back and told all the others something horrible about you-"

"You wouldn't do _that_ , either. You'd say it to my face. I _know_ you, Yamato."

"What if I got back together with Sora?"

"Doesn't matter." Taichi feels a pang, though, at that. It had been hard enough the first time, to watch them together. He could do it again, though. If he had to.

"What if I said something awful to Hikari, something cruel and unforgivable? If you know me that well, you know that's a definite possibility."

"Like that you hate her brother, you mean?" Taichi says, with a little bit of a grin. "Well, then I might be mad for a while. But you'd still be my best friend. It's not like I've never been mad at you before, you complete idiot. It's never changed anything, though, has it?"

Yamato stops, finally, out of hypotheticals. He stares at Taichi wordlessly once more, but this time there's a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're hopeless," he says, and the smile is there in his voice, too.

"Completely," Taichi agrees.

Yamato pauses, then reaches his arm out to Taichi, hand outstretched. "Friends again?"

Taichi feels his chest swelling with emotion yet again. He can't help the ridiculously wide grin that spreads across his face. He's sure it's big enough to be seen from outer space, even from inside the confines of the laundry room. He grabs Yamato's hand in his and shakes vigorously. "Always."

Yamato smiles then, too. It's been so long since Taichi has seen a real smile on his face. It scrunches his handsome features up in a way that's not quite symmetrical, not quite attractive. If there were a photographer or a movie director in the room they'd tell Yamato to stop smiling right away. _Stop smiling! Slouch more! You look like a supermodel when you're brooding!_

But Taichi is in absolute heaven.

* * *

After Taichi, Yamato and Agumon leave, Takeru and Hikari resume ramen preparations. They make a pot big enough for all seven of them, Digimon included, and then take heaping bowlfuls for themselves. They eat in front of the television to distract and soothe themselves after the events of the night.

"Do you think they're all right?" Patamon says in the middle of a commercial break. He slurps down another mouthful of ramen anxiously.

"I don't know," says Hikari. "It _has_ been a while. Do you think we should go check on them?"

"Agumon's with them," Tailmon replies, with a tiny sniff at Patamon for his disgraceful eating habits. "They'll be fine. And if they're not, he'll let us know." She resumes eating her own ramen, slurping up noodles as gracefully and politely as she can.

Hikari looks reassured. Tailmon smiles. She tries hard to be a good partner to kind, sweet Hikari. Some days, like today, it pays off.

It's about ten minutes before the front door bursts back open. The four of them turn to see Taichi in the doorway, laughing and carefree, looking backwards to Yamato even as he heads forwards into the room. Yamato is close behind, and though he's not laughing himself he's relaxed and almost smiling, looking at Taichi with the mix of fondness and exasperation that Tailmon remembers so clearly from years past. Agumon is last. Tailmon can tell he's not sure whether to be relieved or more worried. She understands his cautiousness. She feels the same way herself.

"We started the laundry," Taichi reports, like it's a feat to be proud of.

" _I_ started the laundry," Agumon grumbles.

"That's good," says Takeru. He, too, looks somewhere between relieved and nervous. It's like none of them can quite believe that everything can be back to normal so fast. Not after the weeks of Taichi spreading his miserable lethargy over the whole apartment like a fog.

"Is there anything to eat? We're _starving_ ," Taichi says. No one misses the use of the word _we_. But Yamato doesn't contradict him, just leans against the door frame and raises an eyebrow.

"There's ramen on the stove," Takeru replies, waving in the general direction of the kitchen. The three of them head in that direction without another word, moving in unison like bees swarming toward a hive. On the couch Tailmon exchanges mystified glances with everyone else.

"I ... think this is good?" Hikari says uncertainly. The clatter of Taichi moving around in the kitchen echoes through the room. Whenever Taichi and Agumon take over the kitchen, it sounds like a small army has moved in and is raiding the cabinets for every last morsel of food. "Takeru, what do you make of it?"

"No idea," Takeru says, befuddlement written all over his television-lit face."Yamato looked happier, though."

"Taichi, too," Hikari agrees.

"So it must be good then," Patamon concludes simply.

"Yeah," says Tailmon with a sigh. "I just hope it lasts."

* * *

When the laundry is done Yamato offers to walk Taichi and Agumon back to their apartment so that Agumon doesn't have to carry the heavy load. They amble slowly down the street, the overflowing laundry hampers in their arms still warm and smelling of soap.

"Now what?" says Yamato.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how do we go back to being friends again? It's been so long. Won't it be awkward?"

"I think we just do what friends do," says Taichi. "Talk. Hang out. Do stuff together."

They walk in step down darkened streets. It's late, and the city is awash in the lights from street lamps, stoplights, and still-bright office buildings. Still, there are plenty of other people bustling past. Agumon gets a few strange looks, but Digimon have become a normal enough part of life in Tokyo that no one stops to stare for long.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Taichi asks eventually. Yamato looks over at him and sees that his familiar face, in profile, is resolved and serious. Yamato can't help but smile. It's so Taichi, to want to solve everything right away, once he's figured out the way forward. He thinks over his plans for the next day, though, and falters.

"Umm, a lot actually," he admits. "I'm supposed to stop by my dad's new office, and I have to see Koushiro, and there's this yakitori stand..." He trails off.

Taichi looks a little disappointed, but keeps walking. "That's okay. Another time, then."

But Yamato's thinking.

_Do stuff together_ , Taichi had said. It's not a bad idea. And he hadn't said what, exactly, they should do.

"Umm," he says, stopping in the middle of the street to look at Taichi seriously. "Do you want to come with?"

Taichi turns to him, the disappointment on his face quickly chased away with something like exhilaration, and Yamato has his answer. He hadn't known there was anything he could say to make Taichi's face light up like that. He wants to say it again, over and over, just to watch the way the expression moves across Taichi's face like sunlight breaking through clouds. He can't help smiling at Taichi, then.

So many nights, Yamato thinks, he'd laid in bed and just seethed with anger or sorrow, thinking of Taichi and wondering what had gone wrong, how he could have done things differently. So many nights, wasted. He could have spent that time with Taichi, finding ways to make him laugh or smile. Tonight, he resolves, is the night he starts to make up the lost time.

He deliberately refuses to think about Taichi's confession. About the fact that his best friend is also in love with him. As long as they can have _this_ back, their friendship back, it doesn't matter. He can figure out the other stuff later.

He hopes he can, anyway.


	16. Expanded Air

_Don't you know_ _yet_ _? Fling the emptiness out of your arms_  
_into the spaces we breathe; perhaps the birds_  
 _will feel the expanded air with more passionate flying._

_-Rainier Maria Rilke, translated by Stephen Mitchell  
Duino Elegy no. 1_

* * *

Taichi knows his apartment is a mess. He knows neat-as-a-pin Yamato will be appalled at the disarray, the empty food containers, the sticky, crumb-covered surfaces. He lets Yamato in, anyway.

Once inside Taichi throws his laundry hamper to the side of the door, a haphazardly chosen place that will become the hamper's permanent home for the next few weeks. He finds diving into it in search of a particular piece of clothing every morning makes much more sense than hiding the clothes away in drawers or spending ages carefully hanging them up in a closet that is too messy to find anything in, anyway.

Yamato stands still as marble in the door for a moment, taking in the view, then carefully balances his basket of laundry on top of the stack of empty pizza boxes on the coffee table.

"Taichi," he says, all seriousness, "this apartment should be condemned."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Taichi says, "that's what you always say."

"I've changed my mind," Yamato says, ignoring him, still gazing around the room with something like amazement on his face, "we're cancelling all our plans for tomorrow. I'm coming over first thing in the morning with a roll of trash bags and a bottle of bleach."

Taichi grins. He wouldn't be surprised if Yamato actually does show up on his door step with cleaning supplies in tow at some point, now that they seem to be friends again. Yamato had done it once before, years ago, after weeks of complaining about the state of Taichi's room in his parents' apartment. Taichi's mom had liked Yamato well enough before that, but after seeing Taichi's neat, glimmering-clean room she'd thought Yamato was some kind of deity made flesh.

"I can see the floor," she'd said in a soft, reverential whisper. "There's a floor under there. A _wood_ floor. It's _beautiful._ "

Yamato is still talking. "I can't believe I didn't notice how bad this was when I was here before. I was distracted, but _still_. Agumon, how do you live like this?"

Agumon eyes Yamato, bemused. "Well, _I'm_ not going to clean it up."

Yamato has spotted the stack of dirty dishes Taichi's left on the dining table because he couldn't fit them in the sink. "A biohazard clean-up crew," he says, conclusively. "A roll of trash bags, a bottle of bleach, and a biohazard clean-up crew. That's what we'll need."

"Okay, I get it," says Taichi, rolling his eyes. "You hate my apartment."

Yamato turns to him, then, and there's a hint of a smile on his face. "I'm sure it's a lovely apartment," he says dryly. "Underneath it all."

Taichi laughs, even though it's not that funny. He laughs a little too loud and a little too long. He can't _help_ it, he's just so relieved things between them are back to something approximating normal. Before he knows it Yamato is smiling, too, a _real_ smile, and chuckling so softly that Taichi has to strain to hear. The moment strikes Taichi as a rarity, strange yet wonderful, the two of them bent over with laughter by the door of Taichi's wreck of an apartment. Agumon looks back and forth between the two of them, that look of bemusement still on his face. Taichi can understand. Everything has changed so quickly, he can't blame Agumon for not knowing what to think. He's not completely sure what to make of it himself.

Then their laughter fades and Yamato straightens up.

"See you in the morning," he says. He gives Taichi one last look - a strange look, confusion and contentment intertwined - then is gone. The door clicks shut behind him.

It's over so fast Taichi feels disoriented, the feeling you get when you're a child and you spin and spin and spin in circles and then suddenly stop. He stands in silence, staring at the inside of his own door and letting the residual happiness he feels bubble inside him. Eventually he turns his stare on Agumon, eyes wide and heart still pounding.

"Are you okay, Taichi?" Agumon asks, finally voicing the concern that Taichi knows he's felt all night.

"I think so," Taichi says. He hears his own voice as if from a great distance. The voice is shaking. "I can't shake the feeling that this is all a dream, that I'll wake in the morning to a pile of dirty laundry and know that nothing has changed."

"Do you want me to pinch you?" Agumon offers helpfully, already moving toward Taichi as if to make good on his offer.

Taichi smiles. "Thanks but no thanks. Didn't mean that literally."

The events of the evening are running through his brain on a continuous loop. Yamato leaning against the kitchen wall as naturally as if he'd always been there. Yamato's voice by his side as they stand stock-still in the light of pale moonbeams. Yamato in the night-quiet Tokyo streets, smelling faintly of Taichi's laundry detergent. It feels like a fever dream, like an overwrought scene in a shojo manga. It feels too good to be true.

"Do you want me to come tomorrow, too?" Agumon asks softly. He is eyeing Taichi worriedly, like Taichi is something delicate and fragile on the verge of breaking. Taichi smiles at him, attempting to reassure him, but can feel as the smile stretches his face that it's coming across unnatural and strained.

"I'll be fine, Agumon. It seems like things are back to normal with me and Yamato, so you don't have to worry, okay? You should take a break, anyway. Spend some time in the Digiworld."

"Okay," says Agumon, an undercurrent of disbelief distorting his usually innocent and uncomplicated manner. "But call me if you need _anything_."

Taichi nods. He'd seen that same churn of emotions - wariness, skepticism, disbelief - on the others' faces back at Hikari's apartment. He feels that same churn within himself.

There are a few other things in the mix, though.

Love, overwhelming and strong. Relief, like some dark tension has been released from every inch of his body. Joyful giddiness, like riding again and again on your favorite carnival ride.

But most of all, for the first time in ages, he feels hopeful again.

* * *

When Yamato gets back to Takeru's place, it's well past midnight. Despite the late hour, the lights are on in the apartment. Yamato sighs and steels himself for the ambush that he knows is coming.

Inside, though, Takeru and Hikari are a tangle of limbs on the couch, Takeru's arm draped around Hikari protectively and Hikari snuggled against his chest. They look like puzzle pieces, fitted together. Hikari's soft, regular snores sound like a cat purring. Patamon is asleep in Takeru's lap. Tailmon is curled precariously on the back edge of the couch, eyes closed. When Yamato looks at her, though, she opens one eye to stare back at him.

"Should I wake them?" he asks in a whisper.

"Probably," says Tailmon, stretching her front paws forward and arching her back up so that she looks, for a second, just like an ordinary house cat. "You know they want to talk to you."

Yamato sighs again and moves to grab Takeru's shoulder. Before he can, Hikari stirs, pulling herself up and unraveling from Takeru's embrace carefully.

"Let him sleep," she says, her own voice sleep-bleary and slurring. "It's me that wanted to wait up."

"Oh?" says Yamato, feeling nervous for no reason that he can ascertain.

"Just," she says, obviously still half-asleep, "haveta make sure. Taichi. Is he alright?"

"Umm," says Yamato, and his mind flashes back over the events of the evening. Taichi leaning into the moonlight, face far away yet content. The extraordinary smile that lit up Taichi's face when Yamato held out a hand to him in a simple gesture of friendship. The way Yamato had flashed back to childhood as soon as their hands clasped.

 _I never stopped believing in you_.

He can't believe how inordinately selfish he's been these past few months.

"Yeah, he's okay," says Yamato. "He's okay, and I'm going to make sure it all stays okay. You don't have to worry anymore, Hikari. I promise."

Hikari yawns. "I don't understand you, Yamato. Really I don't. But I am going to hold you to that promise."

Yamato nods at her in grave understanding. He's going to hold himself to it, too.

* * *

Taichi awakens the next morning and has to keep reminding himself that it's real, that he has plans with Yamato for the _entire day,_ that the fact that the world looks so different today than it had yesterday is actually his reality. _It's real_ , he tells himself as he brushes his teeth. _This is happening_ , he persuades himself as he scrubs himself clean in the shower. _You're not losing your mind_ , he chants in his head as he digs through the hamper for a clean shirt and fresh jeans. _You're not losing your mind._

"Taichi?" says Agumon nervously while Taichi's waist-deep in the hamper. Taichi jumps, startled by his partner's voice. Clothes scatter in the air and settle gently on the ground, like wrinkled snowflakes.

"What's up, buddy?" Taichi says once everything's settled and he's standing in the middle of the maelstrom with a sock in one hand, his favorite jeans in the other, and only his underwear on.

"I'm heading through the gate now," Agumon says. If he had eyebrows, Taichi's sure they'd be raised.

"Okay, see you later then!" Taichi replies, trying to sound unworried.

Agumon nods once. "Good luck," he says softly. Then he goes back into the office, where the computer is, and Taichi knows he's gone.

He stands there for a minute looking after Agumon, feeling more alone than he'd expected, as he always does when his partner returns to the Digiworld. It's not that he takes Agumon's constant presence by his side for granted, or that he forgets how much his partner means to him until he's gone. It's that their bond is so strong it's physical, so that when Agumon leaves for another universe Taichi feels the loss coil up inside him somewhere deep in his gut.

There's a knock at the door. Taichi realizes he's still standing there completely undressed and begins hastily stuffing his legs into his jeans.

"Just a moment!" he says to the door as he balances on one leg.

"Taichi, I can hear you. You're right by the door. Just open it already."

Taichi successfully pulls on the jeans, buttons them, and then looks desperately through the pile of clothes on the floor for some kind of shirt.

"Just give me one more minute, Yamato," he says as he scans the room. "I'm not dressed."

"Then why are you standing by the door?"

Taichi finally spots a dark blue button-down by the leg of the coffee table. He throws it on and buttons it up as fast as he can. Then he throws the door open for Yamato.

"You're all dressed up," Yamato says, looking Taichi over critically.

Taichi can feel his face reddening. He hopes he's not making things weirder between them. He hopes Yamato doesn't think he's treating this like a date or anything. "I just put on the first thing I found," he says, gesturing helplessly at the laundry explosion surrounding him.

Yamato is still staring at the blue shirt. "You've buttoned it wrong."

Taichi looks down. Sure enough, one end of the shirt is hanging lower than the other, last button hole empty. " _Damn_ it." He grabs his shirt collar and moves to correct the problem, fingers fumbling with the top button.

"Here, let me," says Yamato. He steps into the apartment and stops right in front of Taichi. Without speaking he starts unbuttoning and rebuttoning, his face intent. Taichi watches him work, almost afraid to breathe. He feels as if he's in the presence of some shy, rarely-sighted wild creature, and if he exhales too loudly or makes any sudden movements the creature will bolt and disappear back into the wilderness, never to be seen again. Yamato's pale, deft fingers trace lightly over the thin fabric of the shirt. Taichi shivers involuntarily.

"There," says Yamato, stepping back. "Shall we?"

They head out into the day. The morning is crisp and clear. The end of summer is nearing and Taichi can feel it in the biting coldness of the early morning air.

"Where to first?" he asks Yamato as they walk down the hall. Taichi deliberately matches Yamato's pace, so they're walking in easy unison.

"I thought we could grab tea or coffee somewhere, then head over to my dad's office downtown," says Yamato. "I mean, if that sounds okay to you."

"Sounds great," says Taichi, and he means it, even if he's never been overly fond of Yamato's father. "Actually, there's a tea shop on the way that I think you'd really like."

He pictures the place, all dark blue walls and twinkling lights and smooth, tasteful acoustic music piped in lightly over the speakers. He goes there sometimes when he's thinking of Yamato. He knows that Yamato will just love it.

* * *

_The seemingly tantric fraternity between reciprocative shifting partners possessively affects internalized repercussions towards Digivices._

Sora blinks. That can't possibly be right. She reads the passage again.

 _The seminal theoretic framework behind reintegrative shaming postulated a postliminary effect of internalized repudiation towards deviance_.

The words don't make any more sense this time around, but at least she's parsed them correctly. She hates reading academic journal articles, especially when they're written in English. Her English is pretty good, in no small part thanks to years of friendship with Mimi, but academic English is almost its own separate, abstruse language. She buckles down, reading the words a third time and trying to actually grasp at their meaning.

The chime of the tea room door sounds but Sora doesn't look up until she catches a glimpse of a familiar pair of running shoes out of the corner of her eye.

Sure enough, it's Taichi. She waves at him and smiles. He halts mid-step and stares at her, looking mildly panicked instead of smiling back. She looks at him quizzically, unsure what the problem is. The smile slowly slips from her face as she finally notices who he's with. It's Yamato, looking straight at her with a piercing and unfriendly expression.

 _Shit_.

She contemplates burying her head in her word and pretending she hasn't seen them. But unlike Yamato, she's not completely avoidant. So she sighs in resignation and puts her journal article down. She'll have to finish deciphering that sentence later.

"Hey," she says, determinedly casual as she walks over to the pair of them, "what are you two doing here?"

Except for the looks on their faces, it's actually kind of a thrill to see them spending time together again. It's been _years_ , after all, since the three of them had anything resembling normalcy between them. She wonders what's precipitated this sudden change.

"Umm," says Taichi awkwardly. "Getting tea?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Yamato spits out. It's an accusation, not a question. She can't tell if the accusation is directed at Taichi or herself.

"Well," says Sora, feeling flustered and self-conscious despite having done nothing wrong, "I'm studying."

Yamato relaxes slightly at that.

"I like this place. I find it calming," she continues, encouraged by Yamato's change in expression. "I've been coming here to study ever since Taichi first brought me here."

Yamato's face collapses in on itself. Sora thinks of a souffle that she made once. It had been airy and perfectly crisped when she removed it from the oven. But over the course of mere seconds, it had deflated like a leaky balloon into an unappetizing puddle of floury goo.

Yamato turns to Taichi, then, and his expression is quickly subsumed by a too-familiar combination of rage and hurt. Sora's heart sinks. She knows that look. Whatever Yamato says next will be perfectly designed to hurt Taichi, to bring him down to Yamato's own level of pain. In a split second she sees how it will all unfold, Yamato hissing out something ice-cold and cruel, Taichi looking instantly devastated, Yamato turning to go. She mentally steels herself. She won't let this happen again. She's had enough of coming between the two of them. She's going to have to stop Yamato from leaving, grab his wrist, yell at him, demand he apologize.

Taichi is looking apprehensively at Yamato. Sora can't tell if he knows what's coming or not. She almost can't bear to watch.

To her surprise, nothing happens. Yamato looks as if he's about to say something, but then somehow he manages to choke it back. He's still looking right at Taichi. Sora watches in amazement as a new mix of emotions traverse his face, strong as a cresting ocean wave. Even after the five years she spent dating Yamato, she can't tell what he's thinking in that moment at all.

"You brought Sora here, too?" he asks Taichi in a very quiet voice. He sounds hurt, jealous even. Sora's not surprised by that. She is shocked, though, at the raw vulnerability he's expressing. She thinks of the last time she'd seen him, in Shimane. He'd been confrontational but closed off as a well-guarded castle, drawbridge raised and moats swimming with sharp-toothed, hungry creatures. That had been only a few months ago. She can't imagine what has caused this great of a change.

"I did," Taichi says, voice equally quiet. "A few days after the last time you came to Tokyo. I was thinking about you, so I came here."

 _Oh, Taichi_ , Sora thinks, heart breaking for him a little. She hadn't known that the tea room reminded him of Yamato.

Yamato nods once at that, as if urging Taichi to continue.

"I was trying to understand what happened that night, so I asked Sora here to talk. I thought maybe since she'd lived with you for so long..." Taichi trails off. He looks into Yamato's face beseechingly. Sora knows he's willing Yamato to understand. "I invited Koushiro, too. The crest of knowledge, you know - I thought maybe he'd have some insight into the situation."

Sora remembers that afternoon. It had been pouring rain. The three of them and their Digimon partners had sat around a table in the dimly lit tea room, sipping increasingly cold tea while Taichi explained what had happened and Sora and Koushiro struggled to find some combination of words that would convince Taichi that everything was not lost, that things might still work out in the end.

"And did he?" says Yamato, after a momentary pause. He sounds lighter, like he's trying to float his way out of the inherent difficulty of the moment. Like he's trying to make up for his earlier overreaction. Sora knows, then, that it's going to be all right. That somehow the unbearable tension has been defused, and somehow she hasn't ruined everything all over again. Strangely she feels a brief flare of jealousy. Has Taichi managed, in a matter of mere months, to work his way through that impossible maze of walls that she'd spent so much time and effort trying to break down herself?

"Yeah, he had some insights," says Taichi. "He said I was an idiot."

Yamato smiles briefly at that. "Well, he wasn't wrong. And Sora? What did you say?"

Sora smiles back at him. "I said _you_ were the idiot."

"You weren't wrong either," Yamato admits, his smile growing.

The three of them stand like that for a moment, just looking at each other and smiling. Sora knows that Taichi and Yamato must both be as relieved as she is that their random meeting has managed to avoid ending another way entirely.

"Well," she says eventually, "I should get back to studying. It was good to see you both, though."

"You too, Sora," says Taichi, sending her a look of gratitude. She smiles back. She thought he might be eager for time alone with Yamato.

"Do you mind if we sit with you, actually?" Yamato says suddenly. "It'd be like old times. The three of us hanging out, I mean."

Sora looks to Taichi, taken aback. Taichi seems similarly surprised, but not unpleasantly so. He beams in Yamato's direction.

"Not at all," Sora says once the shock has worn off. "I won't be great company, though. I really do have to study."

"That's fine," says Yamato. So Sora settles back into her stack of books and journal articles, and Taichi takes Yamato to the counter to order a pot of the delicately-spiced black tea that is the place's specialty. When they return to the table, she clears a spot for them and basks in their familiar voices washing over her as she works. It feels familiar and comfortable, and for some reason their presence isn't distracting at all. Instead she gets even more done than she'd expected, the esoteric words in the article resolving themselves into coherent ideas with unusual fluidity and rapidity. When they finally get up to leave, Sora puts her work down and stands up, too. She hugs them both tightly.

"I'm glad," she says, surprised to feel tears welling up in her eyes. It's all she needs to say. Taichi and Yamato both give her one last smile before turning to go. She watches them through the window as they walk away, stepping in unison.

She'd never thought for a moment that any of this could have a happy ending. She couldn't be happier to be proven wrong.


	17. The Shapes We Buried

_The shapes we buried dwell about,  
_ _Familiar, in the rooms._

_-Emily Dickinson_

* * *

The new Fuji TV building is a shining silver needle reaching upwards to the sky. Yamato stops, craning his neck to look to its top. He's nervous but unsure why. He loves his father, even if their relationship has never been completely perfect. It's been really good lately, though. It's just been a while since he's seen his father in person, he tells himself, trying to shake off his apprehension. That's all.

Taichi stops next to him. "Everything okay?" he asks.

Yamato looks over at him, suddenly ridiculously glad that Taichi's here with him. "Yeah," he says. "I'm fine. Let's go."

It's been less than a day, and already Yamato can't remember how he ever thought he could go the rest of his life without talking to Taichi again. He feels so much more _himself_ when Taichi's around, as if some integral part of him was off-kilter before and has now clicked back into its correct position. Being with Taichi is so easy and natural, like no time has passed and nothing has changed. Like Yamato never fucked everything up between them at all.

Except.

Except every so often he'll remember that as far as he knows Taichi is still in love with him, and he'll look over and scrutinize Taichi's face for signs. He hasn't detected anything out of the ordinary so far. It's always just Taichi, looking back at him the same way he always has, his face easy and open and kind. In those moments Yamato doesn't know what to think.

The weirdest moment had been that morning. He'd stepped forward to fix Taichi's shirt without thinking, then realized too late what he was doing. He'd studiously avoided looking at Taichi's face, focusing instead on the task before him. He'd tried hard to ignore Taichi's audible intact of breathe when Yamato first touched him. He'd tried to ignore the feel of Taichi's chest under his hands, smooth and muscled. He'd tried to ignore the way his own heart was racing by the time he was through.

He wants so badly not to screw this up again.

They have to sign in to the visitor's log book in the lobby, which is a commotion of people in business suits and office wear. Yamato and Taichi are the only ones in street clothes. They stand among the crowd by the elevator and await its arrival. Looking around, Yamato already misses the old Fuji TV building, the way it was when he was a kid. There, people hadn't seemed so stiff and unfriendly. He supposes it's not surprising that years of billion-yen corporate mergers and acquisitions have changed things a bit.

When they board the elevator Yamato has to reach through the jumble of people to hit the button for the top floor. He knows he's not imagining the strange looks he gets from the stern-looking businesspeople surrounding them when he presses the uppermost button.

He and Taichi don't speak as the elevator rises. He tries to sneak a look at Taichi surreptitiously, through his eyelashes or out of the corner of his eye or even in the reflection of the polished steel elevator doors. He's not really sure what he's doing, or why. He just has the strange urge to check on Taichi, make sure he's still there. Check to see that his brown hair still falls across his face in just the way that Yamato remembers, that his skin is as tanned and touched by the sun as ever. That he still looks stupidly handsome in that absurd dressy shirt that isn't even his style at all.

Yamato has no idea what the hell is wrong with him.

The elevator slowly empties as it rises. Finally it's only the two of them.

"D'you think everyone at Fuji TV is stodgy and pretentious?" Taichi says, only half joking.

Yamato does look over at him then. "Watch it, Yagami. That's my dad you're talking about."

Taichi grins his cheekiest grin. "Oh yes. That's right. Your dad works here. And he's not stodgy or pretentious in the least."

Yamato wants to tell Taichi to keep grinning at him like that forever. "Oh, shut it," he says instead.

The elevator doors open to a long mahogany desk with a serious-faced man about their age sitting behind it.

"Can I _help_ you?" he asks imperiously as Yamato and Taichi approach the desk.

"Yamato Ishida to see Hiroaki Ishida," he says. It rolls off his tongue naturally with the long force of habit. The man looks at him over fashionable silver spectacles, giving him a skeptical once-over. Yamato gives him a vaguely disdainful look in return. That usually works on these haughty secretarial types.

"And you are?" the man asks Taichi dryly, moving quickly to his next victim once he's satisfied that Yamato is worthy enough to exist in his presence. Taichi doesn't bother to respond, looking utterly unimpressed.

"He's with me," Yamato says unnecessarily, giving the man a look that dares him to challenge Yamato on that point.

"Mr. Ishida is in a meeting," the man drawls in a monotone. "I will inform him of your presence."

Yamato sighs. _Typical_. "Fine. Is there a lobby where we can wait, or something?"

"The lobby is for those here on official Fuji TV business only," the man replies promptly. He raises his eyebrows as if to imply, _and not for poor distant relatives of the head producer._

Yamato raises his eyes to the high heavens and reaches for his pocket. He's not sure what he's going to produce, maybe an ancient photo of him and his dad that he still carries or maybe he'll just pull out his phone and call his dad. Or his manager at Being Records, for that matter. That might impress this pretentious tool.

Before he can decide, though, Taichi's taken something from his own pocket and slid it across the desk to the man.

"Is this official enough for you?" he says, a note of sarcasm in his voice.

The man's face rapidly shifts from contemptuous to dumbfounded as he looks at whatever it is that Taichi's given him.

"Please excuse my behavior, Mr. Yagami," he says as he hands it back, switching without blinking to an ingratiating and obsequious manner. "The visitor's lounge is right this way."

"What did you show him?" Yamato asks as soon as they're alone in the spacious, sparsely-decorated visitor's lounge. Wordlessly Taichi pulls the mysterious object back out of his pocket and hands it to Yamato. It's a badge, with Taichi's name and picture and the official seal of the Japanese government. At the top it reads _Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the Digiworld_ in embossed gold text. Yamato's eyes widen as he sees that it's been hand-signed by both the emperor and the prime minister.

Yamato can't help but laugh. "This is _amazing_. No wonder he looked so alarmed. When did you get this?"

"Just this month," Taichi says, and Yamato is surprised when a look of shyness crosses his face, like he's worried about what Yamato is going to think. "It's an actual job title. I'm working for the government now."

Yamato doesn't have to fake his excitement. " _Holy hell_ , Taichi, that's incredible! That makes you the official liaison between the government and the Digital world, right?"

Taichi nods, looking both pleased and mildly embarrassed by Yamato's reaction. "There are other Digiworld ambassadors, for other countries. I met with them last week. I think they're going to appoint me the official Digiworld consultant for NATO."

Yamato can feel his jaw is literally agape. " _Wow_."

He looks at Taichi for a moment, considering. It's amazing news, and nothing less than Taichi deserves, but there's one thing that's nagging at him. If he keeps the house in Shimane and Taichi has this new job as a multinational ambassadorial super-leader, what does that mean for them? When will they ever have time to just hang out together like this again?

He's only just gotten Taichi back. He's not willing to lose him again so quickly, not over something as insignificant as a house or a career.

He doesn't say what he's thinking. Instead he smiles at Taichi meaningfully. "I can't think of anyone who's better suited for the job."

"You really think so?" Taichi asks, eyes crinkling up with pleasure.

Yamato marvels once again at how much Taichi seems to value his opinion. How easy it is for him to say something that makes Taichi smile. "Yeah, really."

They settle into two overstuffed armchairs near the window. The view from the top is dizzying. The ground isn't visible. Yamato can only see the bright blue sky, pierced regularly by stick-straight, metallic skyscrapers. It almost feels like they're underwater, surrounded by great columns of wavering seaweed or rusted steel pipes running rivers of oil to the ocean surface.

"Wait a minute," says Yamato, struck by a thought. "If you've just started this new job, how do you have time to spend the entire day wandering around the city with me?"

Taichi rolls his eyes at him. "I took the day off. _Obviously_."

Yamato is strangely touched by this. He quickly changes the subject. "I can't believe you're the official ambassador to the Digiworld, and you still go to your little sister's apartment to do laundry."

"The job didn't come with a laundry service," Taichi responds dryly.

The door bursts open and Yamato's father comes in, looking hassled. "Hi, Yamato. Do you mind waiting just a little bit longer? Something's come up that I have to deal with straight away. Oh, hello, Taichi," he says, spotting Taichi at last. "Always good to see you. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

He stands by the door, worried and expectant. Yamato sighs, knowing what he wants. "Go," he tells his father. "We'll wait."

He's gone in an instant. Yamato stares after him, feeling oddly deflated. He shouldn't be surprised, he tells himself. He should be used to this. His father's just busy, that's all.

"Did you notice he looked older?" he asks Taichi. "His hair's going gray. He looked thin, too, don't you think? Gaunt, even. I bet he hasn't been eating. He always forgets to eat when he's this busy. Maybe I should go over to his place and cook him something."

It's then that he notices the look on Taichi's face. It's undeniably a look of pity, as though Yamato has inadvertently revealed some part of himself that's weak, and small, and _less than_.

Yamato _hates_ being pitied. His eyes narrow.

"Oh, I _forgot_ ," he says. The words come out without thinking. His voice is a icy, frozen wasteland. "The great Taichi Yagami never has to worry about _his_ parents. _His_ family is a perfect harmony of _sunshine_ and _rainbows."_

The pitying look disappears. Taichi just looks exasperated now. "For fuck's sake, Yamato. I didn't even _say_ anything."

"You didn't have to," Yamato spits back. "It's not like you're hard to read. Don't think I haven't noticed you staring at me like an enamored schoolgirl. It's _pathetic_."

Taichi looks briefly hurt, then angry. He stands from his chair. "The only thing that's pathetic is what you're doing right now. You're better than this, Yamato."

He turns away.

"Where are you going?" Yamato asks, a knot of panic surfacing through his haze of anger.

"I'm not just going to sit here and let you lash out at me just because you're feeling bad yourself," Taichi says over his shoulder, already halfway to the door. "Loving you doesn't mean I have to put up with being treated like this."

He's gone before Yamato can think of a single thing to say in response.

_Fuck._

Taichi's right, of course. Lashing out is exactly what he'd been doing. He hadn't _meant_ to, it had just come out unbidden, as if a terrible hex has been laid on him that causes horrible hurtful words to come out of his mouth at inopportune moments. Taichi had been right the night before, too. He just can't seem to stop messing everything up between them.

Taichi's right, and Yamato's in the wrong. _Again_. How many more times will this pattern repeat? How long can this go on before he says or does something that will drive Taichi away for good?

He couldn't live with that. He knows that now.

Yamato is still sitting in the chair with his head in his hands when his father returns to the room.

"Sorry about that," he says as he walks over to Yamato. "You know I hate to keep you waiting, but it was important. Where did Taichi go?"

"We got in a fight," Yamato says woodenly without looking up. "He left."

"Oh," says his father. He falls silent, and Yamato knows he's trying to think of something to say to reassure him. "It seems like you two are always fighting."

His dad has never been exactly good at reassurances.

Yamato looks up at him. His father's lined face is worried. Underneath the worry Yamato can see that he's stressed and frazzled. Black rings under his eyes indicate that he's not sleeping again. Yamato attempts a thin smile, then, to let his dad know he's okay. He doesn't want his dad to worry about him. He's got enough on his plate as is.

The smile seems to encourage his father, because his dad starts talking again, seeming to warm to his theme as he goes. "I was surprised when you came in with Taichi, to be honest. I know he's one of the Digidestined, too, but I thought you'd kind of outgrown that particular friendship."

Now Yamato is staring at his father as though he's grown an extra head. His father doesn't seem to notice.

"We weren't talking to each other for a while," Yamato says softly. He'd planned on following that up with an explanation of how it was all his fault, really, and how relieved he is that it's over, that they're finally talking again. All that goes out the window when his dad starts talking instead.

"That makes sense, really. I like Taichi a lot, he's a nice kid, but he has no _ambition_. Not like you or Takeru."

Yamato just stares at him. Is he talking about the same Taichi? _His_ Taichi? Leader of the Digidestined, soccer star, international ambassador?

"You probably just don't have anything to talk about anymore, now that you're both adults," his father continues, oblivious. "It happens. Friendships change as you get older. You should spend more time with that other Digidestined friend of yours. The doctor. What's his name again?"

"Jyou?" Yamato supplies, incredulous. What does Jyou have to do with any of this?

"That's right. Jyou. He always seemed like a sensible, mature young man. Responsible, too."

Yamato's incredulity is turning to anger. What, exactly, is his father even implying?

He considers telling his dad about Taichi's new job. But he shouldn't need to drop some fancy title for his own father to understand.

"What about Koushiro?" he finds himself saying instead, his voice unnervingly even despite the current of fury roiling through his veins.

"That's a great idea," his father replies, looking pleased. "I hear he's starting a technology company. I told my investment manager to buy stock in it whenever it goes public. You should spend more time with him, too."

"Or Sora?" Yamato continues. "She's almost done with her master's degree now."

His father gives him a slightly perplexed look. "I've always liked Sora. You know that."

"How about Mimi?" Yamato continues, relentless. His father's face grows even more confused. "She just raised fifty thousand American dollars to start her own business."

"She did? Well, that's good news," his father says, brow furrowed. "But you know I like _all_ your friends, Yamato. What in the world is this about?"

"And I know you adore Hikari," Yamato finishes.

"She's going to be a famous photographer some day," his father says automatically, just as he always does. Just as Yamato had known he would. He's eyeing Yamato warily now, finally picking up on Yamato's less-than-cheerful tone. Yamato looks back at him, staring straight into his eyes. He's going to say this once, and then he's never going to let his dad say another bad word about Taichi again.

"There's only one person that every single one of us would follow to the ends of the earth and back," Yamato says, his voice still even but darkly intent. "That's Taichi. Surely you can see that there must be a reason for that, even if you don't understand it."

He gets up. His father looks even more nervous, almost like he's worried that Yamato might try to hit him. He doesn't. He just pushes past his dad and heads for the door.

"Where are you going?" his father asks. He sounds helpless and bewildered. Yamato almost turns back at that, but then shakes himself.

"I'm doing what I should have done the minute Taichi walked out of this room," he says. "I'm going after him."

"What about my new office?" his dad asks. His voice is small. "You haven't seen my new office yet."

Yamato does turn and look back at him then. "You traded half my childhood for that office, Dad. I've seen enough."

His father looks stunned. Yamato feels guilty, but it's the truth, isn't it? He turns to go again.

"Wait," says his father, and there's an edge of desperation in his voice that makes Yamato look back one last time. He sighs, relenting.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm going to go now, but we're fine, okay? I'll email or call soon."

"Okay," his dad says, reassured. "You know I love you, right?"

Yamato smiles thinly at him. "Yeah, I know. I love you, too."

"I didn't mean any of that stuff I said about Taichi, you know," his father says. "I know he's a great leader. I was just trying to make you feel better."

Yamato isn't quite sure he believes him, but if it's a lie it's a lie he appreciates. "Thanks, Dad. I'll see you later."

Before he can go, his dad has crossed the room in several large strides. He grabs Yamato and pulls him close, wrapping his arms around him as if he's still just a child. "It's always good to see you, son. Even for a few minutes. Come back _anytime_."

Yamato relaxes into the embrace. His dad always does know how to make things better, in the end.

* * *

Yamato makes his way out of the Fuji TV building as fast as he can. As he finally escapes, pushing through the gleaming glass doors at the front of the building and emerging into the brightness of the morning, he contemplates where to look for Taichi. Would he have gone home? Or maybe to Takeru and Hikari's apartment. Or maybe he's reported to work after all.

Yamato blinks in the sunlight, letting his eyes readjust to the world outside. He'll try calling Taichi's cell phone, he thinks. Oh god, he never checked to see if Taichi's number has changed over the years they weren't talking. He hopes like hell that the old one is still in service.

But then all thought empties from his mind. Taichi is right there, pushing himself up from his seated position on the steps outside the building and heading straight toward Yamato like a moth to a flame.

"That was fast," he says simply. He's got something in each hand, Yamato notices. Matching bottles of Calpis soda, one already half drunk. He sees Yamato looking and hands him the unopened one without another word.

"I ..." Yamato starts. He runs a hand through his hair, feeling flustered. "God, Taichi. What in the world did I ever do to deserve you?"

Taichi looks surprised at that. A slow, shy smile spreads across his face. "You didn't have to _do_ anything, Yamato. You're _you_."

And just like that Yamato is on the verge of tears.

"I suppose I don't have to tell you how sorry I am?" he asks. "For what I said, back there, I mean."

"Nope," says Taichi. "I already know."

"Good," says Yamato. They stand and stare at one another for a moment. Yamato has to suppress the sudden urge to reach over and grab his hand, as if they were both children again, heading into battle, the two of them against the world. Instead he pulls out his phone to check the time.

"Still too early for lunch," he says. "Shall we head to Koushiro's?"


	18. Hallway Conferences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sitting in a coffee shop writing this while my sister studies, so this seems as good a time as any for this dedication. I wouldn't have started this story if it weren't for my sister, and without her I never would have finished it either. So this story is for her.
> 
> For my little sister, who I love as much as Taichi loves Hikari or Yamato loves Takeru.
> 
> For my sister, who watched those first episodes of Digimon with me all those years ago. Who's the reason I loved the show so much from the get-go and the reason I love writing about the siblings' relationships so much now. Just like the siblings in the show, it's always been the two of us against the world.
> 
> For my sister, who started our annual tradition of making a list of things we'd like to accomplish or experience before our next birthday. This year, finishing this story is on my list. So was watching a meteor shower and going on a solo adventure in a big city. Thanks for the inspiration and for always making my life more magical.

Jyou is running behind again, as usual. There are nowhere near enough hours in the day, he thinks as he types out his clinical notes as quickly as he can. He needs at least another eight hours or so, in order to really have enough time for everything. _At least_ eight hours. He's been thinking that same thought for years, ever since he first started frantically studying to get into med school. He'd thought it would get better after he graduated, that all his hard work would finally pay off and he'd actually be able to rest.

His hard work has paid off, all right. He just isn't any less busy.

"Hurry up, Jyou!" says Gomamon, poking his head up from under the desk. "We're gonna be late."

"I know, I know," Jyou grumbles. "I just have to finish my notes on this one patient. If I don't that idiotic new resident will probably administer five times the dose again."

He resumes typing. Gomamon waits by his side patiently. It only takes a few minutes. When he's done he shuts down the computer and gathers his things together. He grabs his gym bag and opens it for Gomamon, then slings it over his shoulder with the ease of long habit. Gomamon sticks his head out so it looks like he's some kind of hybrid creature, half Digimon and half matte black nylon fabric.

"I swear, what's the point of all that schooling if it doesn't screen out incompetents like Yoshihiro?" he says to Gomamon once they're outside the office. "I've never met anyone so lazy. I swear he doesn't even care about his patients."

Gomamon has heard this particular rant before. "He's probably going to end up killing someone," he says with faux seriousness. That's part of the rant, too. Usually that line comes at the end, after Jyou's described a good bit more of Yoshihiro's absolutely abhorrent patient care. Jyou knows Gomamon's poking fun at him, but chooses to ignore it.

"That's right!" he exclaims. "Some poor sap will end up dead, and who's going to be the one who'll be stuck filling out all the paperwork afterwards? Me, that's who!"

He stops talking, though, as they near the busy staff elevator, in case Yoshihiro is lurking somewhere nearby. He keeps quiet until he's made his way through the lobby and out the hospital doors.

He's actually managed to find a decent parking spot today, so they don't have far to walk. Once they're in the car, Gomamon jumps out of his bag and into the passenger seat.

"Why are we going to Koushiro's, again?" he asks, looking excited.

Jyou sighs as he starts the car. He hopes Gomamon's expectations aren't set too high for this excursion. "It's not going to be that thrilling, really. Koushiro's agreed to help with the technological aspects for this new medical study I'm heading."

"That sounds great!" says Gomamon. "We'll be with our friends, won't we?"

Jyou looks at his partner, who's looking out of the window with anticipation evident all along the lines of his small, eager body.

"You know what, you're right," he says, smiling at Gomamon. "It _will_ be fun. I don't know why I didn't think to mix work and friends earlier."

"Yeah!" says Gomamon. "Next you should enlist Sora to come and comfort all your saddest patients while we do rounds."

Jyou laughs. He can just picture that. "Or maybe we can hire Mimi as a fashion consultant. Have her do something about all those formless scrubs and lab coats."

"Good idea. Maybe she'd have to model the new uniforms," Gomamon teases, wagging his purple eyebrow markings suggestively.

Jyou just laughs again. "Yeah, that'd be a perk, wouldn't it?"

Koushiro's place isn't far from the hospital. Jyou makes good time, and when he pulls the car over he's barely late at all.

He rings the doorbell. Immediately two wooden pieces slide open in the center of the door to reveal a small screen. Jyou peers at it, intrigued. The door had appeared perfectly seamless before, just like a normal wooden door.

Koushiro's face appears on the screen in crisp HD. He's obviously sitting in front of his computer screen - no surprise there, Jyou thinks. It's just like Koushiro to use technology for a task as simple as opening the door. Koushiro probably thinks of door opening as an extraneous task, not worth his time. Jyou wonders if anyone has told Koushiro lately about the importance of sunshine and regular exercise to one's health.

Not that he's one to talk. Not with his work habits.

Koushiro's face on the screen looks briefly menacing. Then, when he sees Jyou, his face relaxes.

"Ah, Jyou. Excellent. Please come in."

With that, the front door clicks unlocked and swings open noiselessly. Jyou immediately revises his estimation of the door-opening technology upwards. Install this in a hospital, and you'd prevent the spread of countless hospital-acquired infections. Especially when idiots like Yoshihiro keep forgetting to wash their hands.

Tentomon flies over to meet them near the door. "Come in, come in," he buzzes happily.

"Hi, Tentomon!" Gomamon says, practically bursting with excitement.

"Koushiro's that way," says Tentomon, pointing the way to Jyou somewhat unnecessarily. _As if I haven't been here before_ , Jyou thinks. He leaves Tentomon and Gomamon chattering together in the living room and heads down the hall.

Koushiro's office is a mess as always. Koushiro himself is still staring intently at the computer screen.

"Sorry about the extra security measures," he says without looking away from his work. "I'm expecting someone else today, too, and I'm afraid I'm not sure of the most perspicacious way to handle the situation."

"Someone else?" says Jyou. He sees that Koushiro has very thoughtfully pulled out a chair for him and cleared a space on the desk. He sits down and gets out his own computer, a little hospital-issued laptop that has all the information the two of them will need to proceed.

"Yamato," Koushiro says darkly. He frowns as he says it.

"Ah," says Jyou. He flashes back to the last time he'd seen Yamato, in the Digiworld. Yamato had been unbearably horrible to everyone the whole time, except for the intense and serious look of gratitude he'd given Jyou as Jyou had hovered over Gabumon's small, unconscious body doing his best to administer care. Seeing that look, Jyou had known that Yamato was still the same, really. That underneath all that angry posturing he still cared about everything and everyone just as deeply as he ever had.

God, how many months ago had that been? He finds the months and years fly by so quickly now that he's grown.

"Yes, I see. Tricky."

"The way he's treated Taichi!" Koushiro exclaims, finally looking away from his computer. "I try my best to be understanding, but it becomes increasingly difficult. The last time I talked to Yamato I found myself barely able to hold my tongue. I may not be able to stop myself this time."

"Do you know what he wants?" Jyou asks.

"No idea," Koushiro replies. "Probably needs some help with that gate I set up for him in Shimane."

"Well," says Jyou consideringly, "maybe it's a good thing I'll be here. I can help talk to him, if you want. I usually understand Yamato all right. He's the type that just _seems_ like they doesn't care about anything. Unlike Yoshihiro. I swear to God that man wouldn't lift a single finger if his own grandmother was on fire."

"Who?" says Koushiro, his face scrunching up in confusion.

"It's a long story," says Jyou.

"Perhaps your presence will be an aid in defusing the situation," Koushiro muses. "Let's not get our hopes up, though. Sora came with me to Shimane to try to reason with him, and she didn't last fifteen minutes before he kicked her out."

"We're in your apartment," Jyou points out. "He can't kick us out now."

"True," says Koushiro.

With that they get to work. The study is a large collaborative effort between institutions from all over the world, and one of the biggest technological challenges is developing efficient data storage and exchange methods that still comply with the stringent legal protections for personal health information of every country involved. For Koushiro it's child's play. In less than an hour he's sorted out more solutions than Jyou or any of his colleagues could have figured out in months.

A doorbell chime and an animated alert pop up on Koushiro's screen while they're in the middle of cross-checking the EU's extensive legal database against their system. Koushiro pauses in his work, looking apprehensive. "That'll be Yamato, then, I would guess."

He double-clicks the alert and a video window pops open. Jyou doesn't bother paying close attention until Koushiro greets the new arrivals in a squeaky, oddly strained voice. "Oh, uhh," he says, more thrown off than Jyou's seen him in a long time, "hello, Taichi. Hello, Yamato."

Jyou immediately drops his laptop and gets to his feet, standing behind Koushiro and staring disbelievingly at the screen. Sure enough, Taichi's face is right there on the screen next to Yamato's, looking carefree and content.

"Hi, Koushiro!" Taichi's voice says over the computer speakers. "Nice new camera setup you've got. Is that Jyou with you?"

"Yep, sure is," says Jyou, disguising his surprise behind a veil of cheeriness. "Isn't this a fun coincidence!"

There's a brief pause before Jyou has to nudge Koushiro to remind him to actually hit the button that opens the door. Once the screen goes black Jyou knows they'll only have a few seconds before Yamato and Taichi arrive, so he begins a furious, whispered discussion with Koushiro.

"Is this good or bad?"

"I can't tell you," Koushiro replies, looking unusually uninformed. "I don't know. I must say I'm not sure I trust Yamato to be in the same room as Taichi after everything that's happened. The last event in the Digiworld, I mean, and what Taichi told me after."

"Maybe they worked everything out?" Jyou says, somewhat skeptically. "It wouldn't be the first time they've fought and made up, after all."

"Very true," Koushiro whispers. "But as far as I'm able to recollect this is likely their worst fight yet."

Jyou nods. It had seemed pretty bad, in the Digiworld. And it's obvious that Koushiro has more information at his disposal. As he almost always does.

Taichi and Yamato's approach is made obvious by the sound of footsteps in the hall. Jyou and Koushiro rapidly resume their places at their respective computers and attempt to look as if they have been working the whole time. Jyou types something random in his Excel sheet. Koushiro refreshes his email inbox a few times. When Taichi and Yamato enter, they both look up and offer overly effusive hellos. Taichi and Yamato's greetings are equally enthusiastic. They both seem genuinely happy to see him.

"What are you doing here, Jyou?" Taichi asks. "Isn't it a work day?"

"Koushiro's helping me with a project," Jyou explains. "For work."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Taichi says, hitting a hand to his forehead in consternation. "I've been meaning to talk to you about something. Hold on, I've got to pull up the email first."

The three of them watch as Taichi reaches into his pocket for his phone and flips through it. Once he finds what he's looking for, he turns back to Jyou, looking at his phone every so often to recall the more technical words. "Would you be interested in leading a longitudinal cohort study to determine disease prevalence risk ratios among the Digidestined worldwide?"

Jyou is immediately fascinated. "Hmm. Traveling between worlds _must_ have physiological effects. I wouldn't be surprised to see strange medical conditions arise among a population with such an unusual chronic exposure profile. Who's asking?"

"Uhh," says Taichi, squinting at the email again, "an American ambassador, on behalf of some researcher at Stanford University."

Koushiro's eyebrows raise; Jyou can tell he's impressed. Yamato smiles fondly at Taichi, looking unsurprised. "Of course it is," he says softly.

Jyou considers the prospect. On the one hand, it sounds absolutely fascinating, and he loves doing his part to contribute to medical research. On the other hand, how in the hell is he going to fit that in to his already overfull schedule? He thinks of his conversation with Gomamon in the car, though, and knows he already has his answer. Maybe he can handle some of the medical check-ups himself.

"It's not a very big sample size. And it'll be challenging to devise an appropriate control group," Jyou muses. "We'll have to take into consideration age, nationality, demographic background, gender..."

"So you'll do it, then?" says a pleased-looking Taichi.

"I'll do it," says Jyou.

"What are _you_ doing here, Taichi?" Koushiro asks, apparently unable to suppress his curiosity any longer. "Did you need something?"

"Nah," Taichi replies, smiling his lopsided grin, "just keeping Yamato company."

Koushiro looks agitated at that. "Is that right."

Yamato gives him a dark look. "Yeah, that's right."

A look of immense frustration crosses Koushiro's face. "Taichi, can I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?" he says flatly. " _Alone_."

He heads out to the hall without waiting for a reply. Taichi shrugs and smiles ruefully at Yamato and Jyou, then follows him, closing the door on the way out. Jyou is left staring at Yamato, who's staring after Koushiro and Taichi with a bitter, narrowed look.

"So," Jyou says, trying to plaster over the awkwardness, "what's up?"

Yamato just _looks_ at him. Koushiro and Taichi's voices are audible in the hallway, even if their words are not. Koushiro sounds vexed, Taichi consolatory.

"I'm doing fine, myself," Jyou babbles one-sidedly. "Busy as always, I mean. Haven't slept a full eight hours in years. Probably going to work myself into an early grave, if I don't die from some horrible hospital infection, that is. But still, I'm fine. Being a doctor is _great_."

Yamato can't help a small half-smile at that. "But you're still going to take on this new study?" he says, his voice lightly teasing.

"Well, yeah," says Jyou. "Wouldn't you?"

* * *

Koushiro can't believe what he's hearing. "What do you _mean_ you never got an apology for that? He said you weren't his _friend_. He left you a sobbing mess on the ground. You can't tell me you've forgotten all of that!"

"Well, no," Taichi admits, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "He apologized, but not for that specifically. But I know he didn't _mean_ it, he just didn't understand-"

"He didn't _try_ to understand," Koushiro interrupts. "And you know perfectly well what my opinions are on deliberate ignorance."

"Everything okay?" says Tentomon, flying up to them with concern evident in his compound eyes. He must have heard them arguing from the other room. Gomamon follows close behind.

"We're fine," says Koushiro. "We're just talking." He can tell Tentomon doesn't completely buy it though; his Digimon partner hovers mid-air next to him without landing.

Taichi is starting to look frustrated. "Look, can't you see that not all of this mess was _his_ fault? _I'm_ the one that stopped talking to him. Since you're so set on framing this in terms of knowledge, think of it this way: I was _deliberately withholding_ knowledge from him. As far as he knew, he _wasn't_ my friend, not anymore. Can't you just be happy for me that we seem to have finally figured it out?"

Koushiro sighs. He wants to be happy for Taichi, he does. It's just hard to forget the many nights he's spent with Taichi, helping him chasing away his Yamato-induced sorrows with alcohol. "Can you _trust_ him, though?"

"Yes," says Taichi, sounding sure. "Yeah, I can. You can, too. He _is_ one of us, after all."

Koushiro sighs again, capitulating. "You're right," he says. "Just be careful, okay? I don't want to see you hurt again."

"I will," Taichi promises. Koushiro almost believes him.

* * *

Jyou has managed to get Yamato to relax and actually talk to him by the time Taichi and Koushiro file back into the room, followed closely by Gomamon and Tentomon. Whatever Taichi's said seems to have appeased Koushiro, and he listens with interest as Yamato finishes describing the small town he inhabits in Shimane. Gomamon takes up his usual place by Jyou's side.

"It is undeniably beautiful in Shimane prefecture," Koushiro says. "I really enjoyed the brief time I spent there."

Yamato looks embarrassed at that. "I meant to thank you for that, Koushiro. I know it's a long trip to get there, and I know I wasn't exactly welcoming."

"Don't worry about it," Koushiro says. "Is the gate still functioning correctly?"

"Yeah," says Yamato, looking relieved by the subject change, "Gabumon's in the Digiworld now. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, though."

"Yes, I suspected as much," Koushiro says, making his way back to the comfort of his computer screen. "What can I help you with?"

"Well," says Yamato, looking to Taichi nervously, as if to check whether his next words are going to upset the newly-found balance between them, "actually, I wanted to ask if it would be at all possible to set up a permanent link between Shimane and Tokyo between the gates. By traveling through the Digiworld, I mean. That way I'd be able to come back here more often."

Taichi just looks pleased. Yamato, still looking at him, shifts from apprehensive to relieved.

Koushiro turns to his computer with a businesslike air.

"Mimi's asked me the same question," he says conversationally as he begins to type at a furious pace, "and it's not possible. Not between New York and Tokyo, at least."

Yamato wilts at the news. Taichi, too, looks disappointed. Jyou smiles to himself, though. Mimi had asked Koushiro about that? He finds that touching and sweet. Maybe it's time for him to schedule in a trip to New York.

"The reason," Koushiro continues, pulling up the same digital topography that he'd used to map the power surges that had plagued them during their last escapade to the Digiworld, "is that gates to the Digital World cannot stay permanently open without the binary code involved undergoing data degeneration and loss that leads to enormous instabilities in the gates. The kind of instabilities that could wreak havoc on biological systems, or open holes between the digital world and ours, or cause the gates to transport the user somewhere else entirely. Further, each time the gates are actually used, the gates undergo a certain amount of spontaneous degeneration and mutation that must be corrected for before that gate can be used again."

"That doesn't sound good," Jyou says nervously. "But we use permanent gates all the time. All our Digimon go through them at least twice a week. How does that work?"

"Great question," Koushiro replies. "I run scripts against each of the gates multiple times a day to check for and correct the errors that do arise. I have also designed a special proofreading program that automatically kicks in after a transport has been completed in order to check for errors before allowing the gate to be utilized again. And I do manual checks at least once a month."

"It's a real pain," Tentomon chimes in.

"However, the rate of data degeneration between gates is directly correlated to the amount of electrical and digital activity in the surrounding regions. In addition, for gates linking two locations in the real world via the Digiworld, that degeneration is multiplied exponentially. Because New York and Tokyo are both enormous generators of digital activity, gates linking those two cities via the Digital world undergo data loss so quickly that the link cannot be stabilized long-term. I can open gates between the two locations for a single transport session, like I did when I last sent Mimi back to New York, but even then it required enormous effort on my part to ensure that the code was stable while Mimi was in route."

Jyou is impressed. He'd had no idea that it took so much effort for Koushiro to accomplish tasks that the rest of them take for granted.

"Wow," Gomamon says, echoing Jyou's line of thought, "I had no idea you did so much work for all of us."

"Yeah," Jyou adds. "Thanks, Koushiro."

"So gates directly from one city to the Digital world are the most stable," Taichi concludes. He's been listening with rapt attention the entire time. Jyou supposes that paying attention to technical details like this is part of a leader's job.

"That's right," says Koushiro. "At least, with my scripts in place they are. Even then, I don't recommend using the gates in rapid succession without me directly supervising the code to ensure that nothing goes wrong."

"But because Shimane is so much less densely populated than Tokyo or New York..." says Yamato, looking hopeful again.

"Particularly the part of Shimane that your house is located in," says Koushiro, zooming in on Shimane prefecture on his map. Unlike the rest of the map, there are almost no blue, red or orange lines criss-crossing the region. There is, however, a lightly-pulsating avatar depicting Yamato's crest of friendship right next to a minitiarized animation of a Digital gate. Those must indicate where his house is located, Jyou thinks. He pictures his apartment and his office at the hospital, both indicated somewhere on Koushiro's map with a blinking avatar for his crest of reliability, and smiles. He's somehow reassured to know that Koushiro spends so much time and energy looking over them all.

"So can you do it?" Yamato asks.

"Hold on a moment," Koushiro replies. "Let me do some calculations."

He resumes typing furiously. Jyou looks over at Taichi and Yamato, but neither of them are looking at him. Instead they're staring at each other with matching looks of something approximating adulation.

_Oh_ , Jyou thinks in a moment of sudden clarity. _Is that how it is? I wonder if either of them has realized._

"I didn't know this is why you wanted to come to Koushiro's," Taichi says to Yamato in an almost reverent undertone.

"Yeah," Yamato says, matching his hushed volume. "I'm sorry. I should have told you. I was really worried that you'd be upset to learn I'm not moving back to Tokyo."

"Upset?" says Taichi, looking baffled. "Why would I be upset to learn I might be seeing _more_ of you?"

Yamato's mouth opens and closes a few times, as if he can't quite find a way to formulate a response. Jyou almost wants to laugh, but restrains himself. He feels as if he's an onlooker to an intimate moment that he's perhaps not meant to see.

To give them a moment of privacy he looks down at Gomamon instead. "Hey Gomamon, I have some really good news for you," he tells his partner.

"Oh yeah?" says Gomamon, already bouncing up and down a little on his front paws in anticipation. Jyou doesn't respond right away, letting the suspense build. He knows Gomamon will be delighted to hear about the new study, and he wants to savor the surprise. As he tells Gomamon the details, stringing them out one-by-one, Gomamon's face keeps finding ways to rise to new levels of elation. Jyou can't help but rejoice along with his partner.

"So you're telling me we're going to get to have nice, long conversations with _all of the Digidestined in Japan_ over and over again for _years_?" says Gomamon. "And that counts as _work_? Are you _serious_?"

Jyou laughs, exuberant. "I sure am, buddy."

"Oh, man," says Gomamon, looking as happy as Jyou's ever seen him. "All that studying for exams was worth it after all! Unless..."

He breaks off, looking suddenly suspicious.

"What is it, Gomamon?"

"...Yoshihiro won't be there, will he?"

"Not if I can help it, he won't," Jyou replies staunchly.

"Okay," Koushiro says loudly, interrupting both sets of conversations, "I believe I have this sorted out."

"So you can do it, then?" Yamato says, moving quickly across the room to stand behind Koushiro's computer monitor.

"Yes," says Koushiro. "With caveats."

Taichi walks quietly over to Yamato's side behind Koushiro's monitor. "What caveats?"

"I've modified my proofreading program to work for a dual-location gate," Koushiro explains. "It _should_ work, but it remains to be tested. And it will take a lot longer to run than the single-location program, meaning that the gate will not be able to be used with the frequency of a typical gate. And I will absolutely have to take the precaution of monitoring the gate extensively for data degeneration the first few times it's used."

"How much longer?" Yamato says, wary.

"Almost twenty-four hours," Koushiro replies apologetically.

"That's not bad," Yamato replies. "I mean, it's not like I can easily travel to Tokyo and back in a day by train, anyway."

Koushiro nods brusquely. "Excellent. Are you ready to go now?"

"What, _now_?" says Yamato, looking over at Taichi, panic rapidly spreading across his face.

"It would really be best," Koushiro replies. "As I said, I am going to have to monitor the gate to ensure it's working. I have time now, and I'd like to finish the work while the new programming is still fresh in my mind."

"Go," Taichi tells Yamato gently. "I don't mind. You can come back in twenty-four hours, after all."

Yamato looks enormously put out. "Taichi, can I talk to you in the hallway? _Alone_?"

Like Koushiro had done earlier, Yamato heads out into the hall without waiting for a reply. Like before, Taichi shrugs good-naturedly at the rest of the room and follows him out, closing the door with a click.

Jyou, Koushiro, Gomamon and Tentomon stare at one another for a moment.

"I'm afraid I must apologize for all this distraction, Jyou," Koushiro says eventually. "I know you're busy, and we haven't had very much time this morning to focus on your work."

"Don't worry about it," Jyou says sincerely. "Even with the interruptions, we've gotten more done today than I could have done in a _month_. But let's get back to work."

* * *

Taichi can't believe what he's hearing. "What do you mean, you're not going back to Shimane? Didn't you just tell me that you're not moving back to Tokyo?"

"I'm not going back to Shimane _yet_ ," Yamato clarifies. "I won't."

"Why not?"

Yamato runs a hand down the side of his face, looking discomposed. "What - because - because I'm not ready, that's why!"

"Yamato," Taichi says, trying to retain his patience, "we're fine now, right? I'll be here tomorrow. You can come back then, if it's so important."

"Come with me," Yamato says suddenly. Forcefully.

Now Taichi _really_ can't believe what he's hearing.

" _What_?"

"Come with me to Shimane. If I have to go."

"Why?"

"Because," says Yamato, more worked up than Taichi's seen him all day, "because I want you to. Because we're supposed to be spending the day together, _damn_ it!"

Taichi can't do anything but stare at Yamato in response. Yamato is red-faced and breathing hard, staring back at Taichi with that intractably stubborn look fixed on his face. He's not going to take no for an answer, Taichi realizes.

_What in the world is even happening right now?_

"Besides," Yamato adds, seeming to calm down now that Taichi is no longer actively protesting, "if you came with me, I could show you my house. And the town, and the forests. And the ocean side. You would love it there."

Taichi's brain still hasn't caught up with what Yamato is saying. He stands there, stock-still, trying to sort Yamato's words into something approximating sense.

"Please," says Yamato. His pale blue eyes are fixed pleadingly on Taichi's. "Look, I came to Tokyo to see _you_. To figure out how to fix things between us. All this other stuff I planned for today was just - incidental, stuff to do to distract myself in case I couldn't figure it out, in case things didn't go well."

Taichi has the urge to close the distance between them, push Yamato against the wall, kiss him so hard that the room spins, keep kissing him and kissing him until they both lose their breath. It's not the first time today he's felt such an urge. As usual he gathers all his strength and pushes the urge away. He doesn't know how many more times he can do this in a single day. He doesn't know how far his self-control will last before he has to leave, before he will need a long break to recover from being so close to Yamato and his luminous eyes, his perfect golden hair, his lean and languid body, his delicate slender hands.

"Yamato," he says. His voice comes out raspy and whisper-quiet. "I can't go with you to Shimane. That would be crazy. Where would I sleep? I don't have any clothes with me, either. Or my toothbrush, or -"

"I _don't. care."_ Yamato interrupts. "Just _come with me_."

"Okay," says Taichi, helpless against Yamato's vehemence and out of strength to protest against something so in line with what he really, _actually_ wants. "Okay, fine. I'll come with you."

Yamato smiles, the turbulence on his face melting away the second Taichi agrees. He looks content, relaxed, buoyant. Taichi can't help but flash back to the night of the first kiss, Yamato's face twisted with betrayal and anger.

He's going to regret this, Taichi thinks. There are far too many ways for this to go wrong.

* * *

Jyou and Koushiro have made a little more progress on their project by the time Taichi and Yamato return. When the door opens, they both pause in their typing and look up.

"I've made a decision," Taichi announces matter-of-factly as he and Yamato walk over to Koushiro's monitor. "I'm going with Yamato to Shimane."

" _What?!_ " Koushiro shouts, so aghast that he actually stands from his chair. Taichi just looks at him, sheepish but making no attempt to justify himself.

Jyou looks over to Yamato, whose earlier look of panic has subsided and been replaced with an expression of radiant serenity. Seeing him, Jyou's initial surprise fades. The whole muddled situation is kind of cute, really.

"Taichi, can I speak to you in the hall," Koushiro says, mouth set in a thin grim line. " _Alo-"_

" _No_ ," says Taichi emphatically, "I've had enough! No more hallway conversations. If you have something to say, Koushiro, you can say it to _all_ of us."

"Fine," Koushiro snaps. "Don't do this! You're being completely irrational!"

"I appreciate the concern, but I can make my own decisions-"

"This is imbecilic," Koushiro says flatly. "You're more intelligent than this."

"How _dare_ you-" Yamato starts indignantly.

"How dare _you_ -" Koushiro counters.

"Can I say something?" Jyou interrupts in his loudest voice. It works. The others all turn to look at him, chastened. He draws a deep breath. "Yamato, you said earlier that Gabumon was in the Digiworld?"

"Yeah," says Yamato, disarmed at the mention of Gabumon, as Jyou had known he would be. "He's been there for a few days now."

Koushiro and Taichi give Jyou identical looks of befuddlement.

"And Taichi," Jyou says, turning to him, "I assume Agumon's there too? Since I almost never see you without him."

"Yeah," says Taichi quietly. "He left this morning."

"Well, why don't you try contacting them?" Jyou says, turning at last to Koushiro.

A look of realization begins to dawn on Koushiro's face. "I would certainly feel more comfortable with the situation if both Agumon and Gabumon accompany you," he says slowly. Jyou smiles. He'd thought Koushiro might like that. The two Digimon can act as chaperones, with Gabumon's quiet wisdom acting as a calming influence and Agumon's guilelessness helping to defuse any tension.

"Yeah, good idea, Jyou," says Tentomon, who had been looking increasingly nervous at Koushiro's uncharacteristic agitation earlier.

Taichi and Yamato look at each other for a second.

"Yeah, okay," says Yamato. "That _is_ a good idea. Thanks, Jyou."

"Agumon should be rejuvenated enough by now," Taichi says. "For a few days, at least."

"Very well," says Koushiro, sitting back down at his monitor. "I'll contact them both."

It's only a matter of moments before Gabumon tumbles from the computer monitor. He shakes himself, then looks around and sees Yamato. His eyes widen as he sees that Taichi is there, too. He goes without hesitation to Yamato's side. Yamato leans down and puts his arms around his partner, talking to him in a quiet undertone.

A few moments later Agumon emerges. He looks around, taking in the situation. "Hello, everyone," he squawks, looking keenly at each face in the room. "Koushiro, Jyou, Tentomon, Gomamon - hello, hello."

With that, he heads to Taichi's side. "What's going on?" he says, turning his enormous yellow head upwards to search Taichi's face, fondness evident in his gaze.

"We're going to Shimane with Yamato and Gabumon," Taichi replies.

Agumon's eyes widen a little at that, but he nods in support. "Okay," he says. "Thank you for calling me to come with."

"Of course," Taichi says softly. He looks up and gives Jyou a little smile of thanks.

Then the four of them file wordlessly over to Koushiro's monitor. Koushiro opens the gate, and there's a clamor of goodbyes before they each step through one-by-one. Koushiro hovers over them, checking the gate as they go through. In a matter of minutes they're all gone, and Jyou and Koushiro are left alone with their partners once again.

"I can't decide if that went better or worse than expected," Koushiro says, looking blankly at his screen.

"Better," says Gomamon, at the exact same time that Tentomon says, "Much worse."

"Well," says Jyou. "Only time will tell."


	19. All In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apron backstory made its way into my headcanon after reading this short little fic: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/12371466/1/Pink-apron.

The sudden transition from the chaos of Koushiro's messy office to the tranquility of Yamato's spacious kitchen is discombobulating. Taichi plants his feet to steady himself and looks around with interest. The kitchen is old-fashioned yet still somehow perfectly Yamato. The walls are paneled in light-colored wood; the cabinets are papered white squares. There's a vintage metal stove, light blue, sitting underneath a pot rack ornamented with a large collection of well-used pots and pans. The spice rack is large and full to bursting. The sink is underneath a large window, to which are pinned large bundles of herbs in varied states of preservation. There's even a green-and-pink flowered apron hanging prominently on the opposite wall. Taichi can't help but relax, seeing the apron. Some things never change.

Yamato sees him looking. "Another gift from my dad," he says, looking mildly embarrassed. "He still thinks it's funny."

"It suits you," Taichi says teasingly.

Yamato rolls his eyes.

"It does, though," Taichi says, softer now as he looks around the room once again. "The kitchen, I mean."

He means the apron, too. He can just picture Yamato in it, frills and all. He has to shake his head to clear the mental image.

"Something smells good in here," Agumon says, tilting his nose up and taking a long sniff. "A _lot_ of somethings, actually. Like a million delicious foods all mixed together."

"Are you guys hungry?" says Yamato with a guilty start, as though he's realized he should be trying to be a better host. "It's almost lunchtime. I can cook something for us."

Taichi shakes his head. "Maybe later. I'd like to see the house first."

Agumon looks disappointed at that, but then nods his head in agreement. "I look forward to your cooking, Yamato. You've always been a good cook."

Yamato smiles, then leads the way out of the kitchen. As they go, Taichi notices that in addition to the metal stove, there's an enormous wood fire stove built into one wall. It takes up nearly half the wall. He can just picture it set ablaze on a cold winter's day, cozy and warm.

Yamato slides open the wood-and-papered door to the next room. It's a tea room of sorts, floor covered in tatami mats and dark wooden ceiling low overhead. But instead of the traditional set-up of individual cushions set at regular intervals around the hearth, there's a fortress of multi-colored cushions of different shapes and sizes piled high to form a makeshift couch. Yamato hits a switch and the ceiling comes alight with a million incandescent string lights winking like fireflies above them. The dark room is instantaneously transformed. It's achingly beautiful and terribly romantic, and Taichi has no idea what to do or say.

"This room is all Gabumon's doing," Yamato says, looking fondly down at his partner. "He said the traditional cushions Grandmother left were too uncomfortable, and that a tea room should be somewhere to unwind rather than a stuffy parlor for entertaining guests we never have."

"It's true, isn't it?" Gabumon says, looking mildly embarrassed. "We don't need a formal tea room. I like this more."

"It's really cool, Gabumon," Taichi says, looking down at him and smiling.

Meanwhile Agumon dives onto the pile of pillows experimentally.

"Ooh, comfy!" he exclaims. "Taichi, come see!'

Taichi can't help but laugh at Agumon's antics. He's glad both their partners are here. He reminds himself to thank Jyou again for the suggestion.

He settles on the pillow pile next to Agumon. It _is_ comfortable, surprisingly so. "Very nice," he says, smiling, and looks up at Yamato in time to catch Yamato looking back at him with a strange look of wonderment on his face.

* * *

Taichi, settled on the pillows in the tea room, is strangely radiant under the dancing lights. His wide smile is brighter than the lights above him combined. Looking at him Yamato feels as if the house is stirring somehow, coming _truly_ alive again for the first time in years. He wonders if it will stay that way after Taichi's gone. He wonders what would happen if he were to sit down next to Taichi and take Taichi's face in his hands, run a hand along Taichi's jawline. He wonders what would happen if -

He abruptly stops himself from wondering when Taichi looks his way.

_Shit!_

* * *

When Yamato sees Taichi looking, he looks away, folding his arms over his chest in embarrassment.

_Huh_.

"Next room, then?" Taichi says, rising up from his seat and trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

Yamato nods and moves to another door on the left. "This is the dining area," he says, sliding it open. Beyond is an enormous room with a low-to-the-ground, polished-to-gleaming mahogany table surrounded by the type of traditional cushion seating that probably used to be in the tea room. On the opposite wall is a glass-doored cabinet with matching dinnerware visible in neat stacks.

"Yamato," Taichi says, impressed, "just how big _is_ this house?"

"Big," Yamato says with a sheepish smile. "Almost too big for just me and Gabumon, really. I have no clue how Grandma managed to keep it up on her own for all those years."

Taichi has a sudden mental image of a much younger Yamato running through this enormous house, sliding doors open and charging from room to room with Takeru close behind, their grandmother calling after them in that wizened voice Taichi remembers so well from the other end of the phone line. He smiles to himself at the thought.

"The other rooms are through the hall," Yamato says, sliding the door closed.

Taichi and Agumon follow Yamato and Gabumon through another door into a long hallway. Yamato slides open door after door, briefly describing each room as they go.

"The bath," says Yamato. Taichi barely has time to take in the luxurious sunken tub with a cobblestoned surface sitting in front of a floor-to-ceiling window to a small private garden. The garden is lush and ancient-looking, green bamboo intertwined with flowering shrubs and moss-covered stones.

"Laundry," says Yamato, and Taichi glimpses the gleaming-white, perfectly-organized room for just a second before Yamato slides the door back closed.

"My bedroom," says Yamato, face coloring slightly as he says it. The room is sparse yet elegant, a simple mattress on tattori mats and a wide window to the outdoors. Taichi is unsurprised to see that Yamato's bed is made, sage green covers pulled crisp and straight.

"I bet you make your bed every morning," he teases Yamato, trying to lighten the mood as they move further down the hall. "Ridiculous perfectionist that you are."

Yamato turns back to stare incredulously at him. "You _don't_ make your bed?"

"What's the point?" Taichi says reasonably. "I'm just going to get back in it later."

A strange noise of frustration makes its way out of Yamato's throat. He stares at Taichi, aghast. Taichi just laughs at the horrified look on his face.

"I don't really get it either, Taichi," Gabumon chimes in. "But then again, I come with my own blanket pre-installed, so I don't need to make _my_ bed."

Taichi grins at Gabumon. If he didn't know any better he'd swear that the Digimon is needling Yamato, too. Gabumon winks at him in return.

"Tell us, Yamato," Gabumon continues seriously. "Why _are_ you supposed to make the bed, anyway?"

Taichi is positive he's making fun of Yamato now.

"Yeah, tell us!" Agumon adds, never one to miss out on the fun.

Yamato stares at the three of them. "The covers will get wrinkled," he manages finally.

"I like my covers wrinkled," Agumon says innocently. "It makes a bed feel cozier!"

Yamato turns away after another minute of staring at them incredulously. "You're all uncivilized cretins," he says, then moves back down the hall. Taichi shares a quick smirk with Gabumon and Agumon before moving down the hall after him.

"This is the last room on this floor," Yamato says. "It's a little empty. Gabumon and I haven't really decided what to do with it."

He pulls the door open to the largest room yet, also covered in tattori mats. There are built-in shelves running all along the interior walls. Yamato's CDs and books line the shelves, books organized neatly by size. A cast-iron wood stove stands solemnly in one corner. Otherwise, though, the room is empty.

"It's beautiful, though," says Yamato softly. "Watch."

He strides across the room and begins sliding aside the wood-and-paper panels to reveal a view of the house's exterior. Soon sunlight is slanting through the room and along the floors, casting dappled yellow light all around. The view outside is so stunning that Taichi finds himself having to catch his breath. The house is nestled up against a forest, ancient and dense with trees. Autumn comes earlier to Shimane than Tokyo, apparently, because the colors are already beginning to change. Brilliant flares of red, orange and yellow are woven throughout the tapestry of green.

"Wow," Taichi breathes, moving closer to Yamato to get a better look.

"I thought you'd appreciate this," Yamato replies, looking pleased.

"It's incredible," Taichi says, still mesmerized. "I can see why you like it here."

Beside him Yamato beams in response. His familiar face is framed against the view, his smile beatific. Taichi doesn't think he's ever seen anything more beautiful.

"Come on," says Yamato, grabbing Taichi's hand. "There's still the attic and the bathhouse to show you."

Taichi freezes and looks down at their clasped hands, but Yamato is already pulling him out of the room and back down the hall. He glances back at Agumon and Gabumon, trailing behind them, but they look just as clueless as he feels. Yamato's hand is cradling his loosely, his thin fingers gentle against Taichi's own.

Taichi tells himself sternly not to make anything of it. Friends hold hands sometimes, he tells himself. Usually not boys, but still. Anyway it's not like hand-holding is a first for the two of them.

They reach a narrow wooden ladder at the end of the hall and Yamato drops Taichi's hand abruptly.

"We haven't done anything with the attic yet either," he says, already ascending the ladder. "But this where Takeru and I stayed when we were kids."

Taichi eyes the ladder skeptically. There's no way Agumon can get up there on his own, he thinks. But Yamato's already out of sight somewhere in the room above.

"Yamato!"

"What?"

"Help me help Agumon up."

"Oh. Right."

Together they get Agumon up the ladder, Taichi lifting from below and Yamato hauling him up from above. Gabumon follows, stretching his long arms up and pulling himself up rung by rung without help. Taichi joins last.

The ceiling is low; light filters in through a single circular window. Two small, dusty cots are laid out together on one side of the room. Seeing them makes Taichi's heart ache a little.

This is the first place in the house Taichi's seen any hint of a mess. There are boxes and stacks of random items piled up along one wall.

"Some of Grandma's things," Yamato says, seeing where Taichi is looking. "I'm saving them here for when Takeru visits, so we can go through them together. There's a lot of pictures, letters from when she was younger, things like that. When he comes we'll divide them up, maybe frame some things, find a permanent place for them somewhere besides this dusty attic."

Taichi looks at Yamato, heart aching even more. "Is it hard?" he asks quietly. "Being here now that she's gone, I mean."

"Sometimes," Yamato replies just as quietly. "Especially at first. I miss her, and this was so much _her_ house, you know?"

Taichi nods. Yamato walks to the stack and rummages through it, emerging with a tattered photograph in hand. He hands it to Taichi. It's a picture of Yamato, Takeru and Kinu standing together outside the house, smiling into the summer sun.

"At first it just seemed sad, being here," Yamato says. "But after a while it seemed _right_ , somehow. Like maybe the best way to pay tribute to my grandmother and her life was to stop this house from dying with her."

Taichi looks at the photograph tenderly. It's a beautiful sentiment, to keep the ones you love alive by intertwining your present with their past. In this moment he loves Yamato even more somehow, if that's even possible. He angles the photograph so Agumon, standing beside him, can see too.

"You've done well by her," Gabumon tells Yamato, walking to his side and looking up into his face earnestly. "She would like what you've done with the house. She would be glad to see you using it."

"I think she would," Yamato says thoughtfully. "I'm not sure how she would feel about all the newfangled technology I brought with me, but still."

Taichi smiles a melancholy smile and hands Yamato the photograph back. "Thank you for telling me about her," he says, voice tight.

Yamato returns the smile.

A bell chime interrupts the moment. It's Taichi's phone. He pulls it out of his pocket, a little surprised he's still getting cell service here.

He's not. The chime is from a chat message sent over Yamato's internet connection. Taichi reads it quickly, frowning. _Had an idea to stabilize the gate. Might be able to get you back to Tokyo much sooner. Will be in touch - K._

"What is it?" Yamato asks.

"Nothing," Taichi replies, putting the phone away. It's not _exactly_ a lie. Koushiro hasn't actually figured anything out _yet_. He'll tell Yamato later.

He doesn't let himself consider the possibility that he's not telling Yamato about the message because he doesn't want to leave.

"There's one last room, right?"

Yamato smiles again. "Yeah."

They head back downstairs, lowering Agumon together, and through the hallway to the back of the house. This sliding door leads to the outside. The air is crisp and cool. The four of them make their way across the leaf-strewn ground to the small building huddled at the edge of the encroaching forest.

"It's a real bathhouse," Yamato says as they approach.

"No _way_."

"Well, a hot spring, actually. There's a vein of carbonate-rich spring water that runs under the forest. Whoever built the bath house had the water piped up from underground. The pipes are close to a century old, but the water stays at 40 degrees without additional heating."

"This is just getting ridiculous," says Taichi. "Don't tell Mimi about this. You'll never get her to leave."

Yamato smirks. "Good point."

The interior of the bathhouse is divided by yet more wood-and-paper screens. The entrance opens onto a small changing area, complete with a shower head, a bathrobe hanging from a hook, and a pair of sandals on the floor underneath. Yamato takes off his shoes and Taichi copies him, leaving his sneakers lined up next to Yamato's by the door. Gabumon and Agumon respectfully wipe their feet on the mat before continuing.

They walk through the screens in back and emerge in the bathing area. A large rectangular pool of water takes up the length of the room. Steam rises from the surface gently. The whole room smells faintly of ocean air and iron.

Yamato walks around the edge of the pool and slides the doors open so Taichi can see the view of the forest.

"Screw Tokyo," Taichi says. His voice echoes around the room. "Why does anyone even live there, anyway? This is _much_ better."

Yamato's small smile is a gratified one.

Agumon walks to the edge of the pool and bends over, testing the water with one clawed arm. "It's nice and hot," he says approvingly. "Yamato, can I get in? Please?"

Yamato nods. "Just make sure to clean yourself off first."

"Come on, Agumon. I'll show you what to do," Gabumon says. "Maybe I'll even stick my feet in."

He leads Agumon back to the changing area. Yamato walks instead to another section of screen partitioning.

"I sectioned this off myself," he explains.

He opens it and goes inside. Whatever lies beyond is shrouded in darkness. Taichi can't make out a thing. He follows Yamato, unsure what to expect.

Inside Yamato flicks a floor lamp on. The newly illuminated room is still dim, because the walls themselves are made up of tiled black squares. Taichi looks around, confused.

"It's soundproofing foam," Yamato explains. "For when I practice. Sometimes I record in here, too, but sometimes I record in the main bathhouse. For the natural echoes, see."

Taichi's eyes are beginning to adjust. He can make out Yamato's bass hanging from the wall. Next to it are an electric and an acoustic guitar.

"The foam helps to keep the moisture out, too. It does make it pretty dark, though."

More of the room is coming into focus. There's a wide desk in the middle of the room with a desktop computer and a keyboard sitting atop it. Yamato's harmonica is there, too. Musical equipment - speakers, complicated-looking control boards, a microphone stand - is scattered throughout the room. There are wires and stray scraps of paper everywhere. It's a total mess.

Taichi pulls up a random stool and sits on it, quite unable to suppress his smile. "So this means you're gonna play for me, right?"

Yamato seems surprised. He turns away self-consciously. "Umm, okay. If you really want me to."

" _Obviously_ ," Taichi replies. "I love listening to you play."

Yamato pulls his bass down from the wall thoughtfully. "I guess I could play you this song I've been working on."

He throws the bass strap over his neck, then starts turning on various pieces of equipment. He plugs the bass into a cable, then turns to Taichi, looking nervous again.

"It's a lot different than my previous stuff."

"Cool. Can't wait."

"Like, a _lot_ different."

"Yamato, what do you think I'm gonna do? Turn you in to the fan girl police? Just _play_."

Yamato just looks at him, wary. "Fine," he grumbles eventually. To Taichi's surprise, he doesn't start by playing his bass. Instead he lets the bass fall against his side and pulls the acoustic guitar from the wall. He plugs it in and plays a percussive line by alternatively slapping the strings or the guitar's wooden body in quick, practiced movements. The rhythm is upbeat, driving even. He plays for only a few seconds before turning quickly to hit a button on the synthesizer behind him. The rhythm track begins to loop. It sounds like actual drums. Taichi raises his eyebrows, already impressed. This _is_ different from anything he's seen Yamato do before.

He adds a keyboard line and more percussive effects to the loop on the synthesizer, then turns back and finally begins picking out a bass line on his bass. It's not long before he loops what he's played and switches out the bass for the electric guitar. Before Taichi knows it the studio is alive with sound. It's as if an entire band is playing.

Then Yamato begins to sing into the microphone, and Taichi is transported.

Despite the upbeat, almost jangly tone of the music, Yamato's voice is haunting, the lyrics melancholy as an overcast day. He's using some kind of effect on his voice, so that it sounds as if another ghostly Yamato is singing faintly along with him. Taichi wonders if there's a specific word for the way the music is making him feel. Bittersweet isn't quite it. Oddly nostalgic, yes. Sad, certainly. But also oddly optimistic, too.

"Was that a song about fighting for our fallen friends, back in the Digiworld?" he asks after the last echoes of the music have finally faded.

"Yeah," says Yamato quietly. "You could tell?"

"Yeah," he replies, and then, with the last of the music-induced mix of emotions still churning within him, "you keep forgetting how well I _know_ you, Yamato."

Yamato just sits there looking at him, guitar still in his hands. "Yeah, I suppose you do."

He starts picking out another melody on the guitar, this one more simple and sweet. He looks away from Taichi, his face turning red, as he says, "I wrote this one for Takeru."

Taichi smiles at that. Only Yamato would be so embarrassed by admitting he'd written a song about his own _brother_.

Halfway through the almost wistful ballad, Taichi feels his phone vibrate. His heart sinks. He looks at Yamato to see if he's noticed, but Yamato is absorbed in the song, eyes closed and all. Taichi looks at the screen surreptitiously. Sure enough, it's another message from Koushiro.

_Got it figured out. Gate is stabilized. Should be permanent. You can come back through now._

Taichi knows he should be grateful to Koushiro for putting in the extra work and sorting this out. He knows it'll be better for Yamato in the long run to have a gate he can use whenever he wants. He still finds himself feeling irked instead. He types out a reply as fast as he can.

_Thanks. Busy right this second but will come back through later. Will let you know when._

A few seconds later his phone buzzes again.

_Everything ok?_

Eunnnnngh.

Why won't Koushiro just let him be?

He types out another reply furiously, hitting the buttons a little bit harder than strictly necessary.

_Yeah, everything's fine. Everything's great, actually. Stop worrying! :)_

When his phone buzzes a third time he doesn't bother to check it. Instead he focuses again on Yamato and his playing. He refuses to let Koushiro ruin this for him.

Agumon and Gabumon join them just as the song nears its end.

"I love this one," Gabumon says, watching Yamato fondly.

Agumon doesn't say anything, just watches Yamato play along with the others. When the song is over, he goes up to Yamato eagerly.

"I've waited long enough," he says. "I'm _starving_. Can we have lunch now?"

"Fair enough," says Yamato. He bustles around shutting down the studio and putting his instruments away.

"We should stop in the garden on the way back to the house," Gabumon says. "Check if anything is ready to be picked."

Yamato nods and leads them back outside. The garden is a long plot of land partway between the main house and the bathhouse. The vegetable plants, once planted in neat rows, now look haggard. Grizzled stems are bent over with the weight of their own fruit. Yamato and Gabumon weave through the rows, peering at each plant one by one.

"How do you tell which parts are good to eat?" asks Agumon. "Everything looks tasty to me."

"You have to look at the colors," Gabumon calls from a few rows over. "Here, I'll show you."

Agumon heads to his side. Taichi pauses to watch the three of them work. The sun is a little more than halfway across the sky. Everyone's arms are rapidly filling up with their haul of fresh vegetables.

Rural life suits Yamato surprisingly well, Taichi thinks. Here, Yamato is more open and relaxed than Taichi's used to seeing him. It makes a lot of sense, he supposes, that someone with Yamato's tumultuous childhood would seek out a place of such tranquility and stability as an adult. He finds himself filled with gladness that Yamato seems to have found his peace at last.

* * *

Yamato stops at a collapsed tomato plant, bending down to see between the jumbled branches. The plant is done for the season, already browned in spots from first frost. Still, there are a few last ripened tomatoes ready for picking hidden in the fading greenery.

"Agumon, have you ever had a tomato fresh off the vine?" he calls.

Agumon is by his side quicker than Yamato would have thought possible, face bright with anticipation. "I've had tomatoes before," he says. "Is this different?"

"Very different," says Yamato, handing him the largest, juiciest one. He makes sure to remove the stem first. He knows Agumon would devour it stem and all otherwise.

Agumon's face lights up as he tastes the tomato, just as Yamato had hoped. "So _flavorful_ ," he says reverently.

Yamato smiles at him, then looks up to find Taichi watching. He can no longer deny to himself that the look on Taichi's face is one of love, pure and simple. He finds he's no longer entirely overwhelmed by the prospect.

He gathers the rest of the ripe tomatoes and adds them to his collection. Then he straightens up, calling out to Gabumon. "All done, Gabumon?"

Taichi comes to his side and takes some of the vegetables from his and Agumon's arms. Gabumon joins with a towering haul of his own. The four of them trek back to the kitchen together. Yamato marvels at how ordinary all this feels, like having Taichi here with him in Shimane is routine rather than the miraculous new development he knows it to be.

They pile the vegetables on the counter and Yamato takes stock. Eggplant, yam, tomato, squash, even some shallots. It's a good harvest. He ponders what dish to prepare to make use of their crop. Eggplant curry, he decides after a moment. That'll do just fine.

He pulls on his apron, then sets about washing and chopping vegetables. Gabumon joins him with the industriousness of practiced habit. Taichi and Agumon lean against the wall to watch.

_We're going to have to get some bar stools for the counter,_ Yamato thinks. _So Taichi will have somewhere to sit while I cook._

A minute later he's asking himself what the hell he's thinking. Taichi's only here for the day.

He grabs a pan from the overhead rack and heats some oil in it, still thinking.

"Taichi," he says after a moment, watching his sliced shallots sizzle in the hot oil, "I have a question."

"What's up?"

He hesitates. He's not quite sure how to put what he's thinking into words. Not without sounding needy or insane. Not without potentially scaring Taichi away forever.

He's still going to have to ask, though.

"Umm. About you being in love with me. What does that mean, exactly?"

There's a moment of stunned silence from behind him.

"Are you seriously asking me what _love_ is, Yamato? _God_. I am so not qualified to answer that. We can call Sora up and ask her, if you want."

"That's not what I mean," Yamato replies, annoyed, stirring in the eggplant with extra vigor.

"Well, I _know_ you had sex ed in school. We were in the same class. So you're as informed as I am on _that_ front."

"Can you _please_ be serious for a moment," Yamato snaps.

"Well, what are you trying to ask me, even?" Taichi snaps back. "I don't know what you want!"

"Just," Yamato says, and sighs. His overzealous stirring is making a mess, stray oil splatters getting all over his nice clean stove. He slows his stirring and tries to think what to say. "I guess I'm asking you what _you_ want."

"Isn't that obvious?" says Taichi, still sounding completely baffled. "I want _you_."

Yamato stops stirring and turns to face Taichi. Beside him Gabumon gives him a wary, worried look and swiftly takes over the cooking, dragging his stepping stool in front of the stove and clambering up.

"For how long?" Yamato says finally.

"Oh," says Taichi, comprehension at last dawning on his face, "is that all this is about? You're worried that I'm going to disappear on you again? Well, I'm not. I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry I ever did."

"That's not all it is," Yamato says. God, this is so frustrating. He can't see why Taichi doesn't just _get it_ yet. Maybe Taichi's trying to torture him, trying to draw words out of Yamato that he's not sure he's ready to say. "Just ... I need to know how far this goes."

Taichi looks blank again. "How _far_ this goes? What on earth do you mean?"

Yamato doesn't reply. He doesn't know how he can possibly make himself clearer. He just keeps staring at Taichi, hoping he'll get it.

"Okay, so. Obviously you're not, like, asking if I wanna settle down, get married, and have kids. So what _are_ you saying?"

Yamato still doesn't reply, but he gives Taichi a look.

"Holy shit," Taichi says, realizing, "that _is_ what you're asking? Holy _shit_."

Yamato crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Taichi balefully. Is he going to answer the question or not?

"Well?"

" _Fuck_ , Yamato, I don't know! Literally two days ago I thought you were never going to talk to me again. It's not like I've had time to think about that!"

"Think about it," Yamato says curtly.

Taichi looks maddened. "Gahhhhhh," he says. It sounds like a croak.

"What are they fighting about now?" Agumon asks Gabumon in an exaggerated whisper. Gabumon just shakes his head.

"Why do you ask?" Taichi says, suddenly suspicious.

Yamato sighs. He was afraid of that question. "I just need to know."

A mischievous look is starting to form on Taichi's face. "Is it because you have _feeeeelings_ for me? Is that why?"

"Wha - you can't tell me you're in love with me, and then make fun of me for the exact same thing!" Yamato yelps.

Taichi snickers. "Yeah, I totally can."

"Oh my god." Yamato puts a hand to his forehead and closes his eyes. Taichi is still snickering a little.

"Lunch is ready," says Gabumon from behind them.

Yamato starts. He'd completely forgotten he was supposed to be cooking. "Shit! Okay, let me get the bowls out, and the condiments, and -"

"I've got it," says Gabumon. "Don't worry."

"Hey Yamato," says Taichi. He seems to have recovered from his snickering fit and is looking straight at Yamato, a serious expression on his face. "Come over here."

Yamato looks at him, not sure what Taichi wants. He takes a half step closer.

Taichi gives him a look of fond exasperation. "You complete and total idiot."

He crosses the distance between them in two quick strides. Then he puts his hands on Yamato's shoulders and kisses him, lips warm and soft against Yamato's own. _Finally_ , Yamato thinks, and his own body surges forward to meet Taichi's, one hand in Taichi's hair, the other running down his back, the kiss quickly turning into something urgent, and desperate, and strong.

"Their lunch is going to get cold," he hears Gabumon say from somewhere. He doesn't care. He barely even processes the words.

"Well, I'm not going to let _mine_ ," says Agumon. "Come on. Let's eat."

Taichi's mouth opens under his, intensifying the kiss, and Yamato can't help the moan that escapes him. Somehow he finds himself maneuvering Taichi backwards until his back is against the wall and Yamato can pin him in place like that, their bodies fitting together like they were made just for this moment. _You_ , he thinks, his body pressed tight against Taichi's, Taichi's hands on his back, their tongues furiously intertwined. _You. You and you alone_.

When they finally pause for breath, Yamato finds himself holding Taichi's face gently in his hands. He's so close to Tai that he can see all the different shades of brown and yellow in Tai's eyes, shifting in the light like a ray of sun angled through dark brown glass.

Taichi is looking back at him, smiling and smiling. "Baka," he says. "If you love each other, you don't have to have everything figured out in advance. We'll _improvise_."

"I don't like improvising," Yamato grumbles. Taichi just laughs. Then they're kissing again, more slowly this time. It's so agonizingly tender that Yamato feels little tendrils of electricity racing all along his skin. The kiss is over too soon, and Yamato doesn't realize for a moment that the reason Taichi is pulling away and reaching for his phone is because the phone is ringing.

" _Damn it_ ," he says. "It's probably Koushiro again."

"Again?" says Yamato hollowly, brain still processing the loss of Taichi's skin against his skin, Taichi's lips against his.

"He fixed the issue with the gate," Taichi says, pulling his phone free at last. Yamato can see the crest of knowledge icon steadily blinking on the screen in time with the insistent chime. Taichi hits the ignore button and puts the phone back in his pocket. "We can go back to Tokyo anytime now."

"Sorry," he adds, not looking in the least sorry. "I didn't tell you because ... well, _because_."

Yamato reaches for him, unable to handle the physical distance between them for another moment. "Stop talking and come _here_."

* * *

Koushiro puts down the phone, frustrated. _Damn_ it, Taichi. He's really starting to get worried now. Taichi always responds to his texts. And for him to not pick up a phone call is truly unheard of.

What in the world is going on over there?

Koushiro dials Jyou's number. "Hey, what's going on?" Jyou's voice says over the line, friendly and warm. "Did you need some more information on the project? I'm on the way to a meeting now, but I can get to it later this afternoon."

"It's Taichi and Yamato," Koushiro explains in a rush. "I fixed the gate, but I haven't heard anything back from Taichi. I'm starting to get worried. I'm not sure how to proceed-"

"Hey, calm down, Koushiro," Jyou's voice says, mellow and cool. "They probably just need a little space. Just let it be, okay?"

Koushiro is not at all reassured. He dials Takeru and Hikari's phone number.

"Yamato is in Shimane - " he starts when Takeru picks up the phone.

"Yeah, I know. He texted earlier," Takeru replies. "He said he'd be back tomorrow. Thanks for setting him up with a gate to Tokyo, Koushiro, that's really cool of you - "

" _Taichi is with him_ ," Koushiro interrupts urgently.

There's an extended silence on the other end of the line.

"So?" says Takeru eventually. "Why wouldn't he be?"

Koushiro sighs. "Fine. Can I talk to Hikari, then?"

"You're on speaker phone," Hikari's smooth, even voice responds. "Hello, Koushiro."

"Are neither of you worried?" Koushiro says.

"Nah," the two of them chorus.

"I have a feeling they've finally worked it out this time," Hikari adds. "Don't worry, Koushiro."

Koushiro hangs up, finally thwarted. "I don't understand," he tells Tentomon. "I don't understand at _all_."

"It's probably just that you don't have all of the facts yet. I'm sure you'll work it out," Tentomon replies faithfully. "In time."

* * *

Their lunch is cold by the time they get around to eating it. It's still tasty, Taichi thinks, digging in. The home cooked meal is fresher and more flavorful than anything he's had in months.

"What should we do after this?" says Yamato, eating his own cold lunch in small, polite bites. "We can head to town, or walk to the lake, or take a train to the ocean side, or go to Matsue for the lantern festival - "

"Yamato," says Taichi, feeling enormously fond, "you don't have to find things to entertain me. I'm happy to be here with _you_."

"I _want_ to show you," Yamato says. "I want you to love Shimane like I do."

"I love it because you love it," Taichi replies. "You don't have to convince me."

Yamato smiles. It's the broadest smile Taichi's ever seen on his face, open and happy. "In that case. Want to see more of my bedroom then?"

" _Yes_ ," Taichi replies. "I do."

Yamato's smile widens more than Taichi would have thought possible. "We can open the screen doors to the forest. It'll be like camping."

A guttural noise comes out of Taichi's throat unbidden. "You're killing me."

Yamato laughs. "Oh, is that your fetish, then? Camping? Forests?"

" _You_ ," says Taichi, helplessly honest.

They only manage to eat about half their lunch before Yamato leads Taichi back to the bedroom, fingers lightly clasping Taichi's. Together they slide open the screens on two walls to reveal floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Soon the room is encased in pure forest and Taichi is pushing Yamato down onto the bed, pulling off the damned frilly apron at last, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal pale smooth skin and angular collarbone, running his hands along Yamato's chest and arms and hair and face.

He can't imagine what last-week-Taichi would say if anyone told him that this was the future coming for him. He doesn't think he would have believed it.

Then Yamato arches up underneath him, mouth meeting his in a crushing kiss, and Taichi stops thinking about anything at all.

* * *

Agumon and Gabumon stare at one another, unsure what to do.

"I'm glad everything's back to normal between them," Agumon says.

"Me too," Gabumon replies.

"Do _you_ understand humans?" Agumon asks.

"Sometimes," Gabumon answers.

"How about today?"

"...I'm afraid not."

"..."

"..."

"What should we do now?"

"Hmm," Gabumon says. "There's a river nearby. Would you like to try fishing?"

* * *

The next morning the sunlight wakes them. It travels slowly through the room thick as treacle, casting first purple, then pink, then golden yellow light all around. Yamato lies on his side and watches Taichi sleep. Taichi looks completely ridiculous, splayed out across the bed and snoring heavily, but Yamato feels something welling up inside him anyway. It feels like being filled up as full as you can get, and then a little bit fuller. It feels like home.

As he watches Taichi's eyes blink open blearily.

"Good morning," Yamato says softly.

Taichi smiles, radiant and pure. "Good morning."

Just then Taichi's phone begins to ring insistently. Taichi and Yamato both groan. Taichi reaches over to turn it off. " _Good lord,_ it's too early for this."

A few seconds later the phone begins to ring again. Taichi hits the speakerphone button, looking seriously irate. "Koushiro, I _told_ you I was fine. Call back later, we're busy - "

"Whatever it is, it's going to have to wait," Koushiro's voice says over the speaker, unusually grim. "There's a problem in the Digiworld."

Yamato and Taichi are both instantly on their feet. Yamato reaches out and Taichi's hand is right there waiting. Their fingers close. Taichi's grasp is tight against his own. As before it's the two of them against the world, ready for anything.

"We're on our way," Yamato says.

_-fin-_


	20. Epilogue

It is winter in Tokyo and the sky is low and grey. A man walks quickly down a nearly-empty street carrying a dark leather briefcase. A couple feet behind him a small yellow reptile in a hooded parka struggles to keep up, its large mouth chattering with the cold.

For it is indeed very cold this December day. The air is sharp with it, brisk. The man is wearing a heavy pea coat and thick leather gloves, and still he looks chilled to the bone, his cheeks flushed bright red. His hair, dark brown and compressed underneath a winter cap, still manages to stick up a little as if in defiance, as if it has a mind of its own that even humidity and hats cannot defeat. His eyes, a warm brown, are open wide despite the blustery weather, taking in everything they see.

As he walks he takes a small phone out of his pocket and glances at the time displayed on its front.

"Damn," he mutters, and then louder, "Agumon, we're going to be late! The British ambassador isn't going to be happy."

"I can't go any faster," the reptile-creature behind him replies. "You know how the cold slows me down."

The man glances back in concern and then stops. His reptile friend looks almost frozen, and every step it takes looks like it takes enormous effort. "I can call a cab," he offers, sounding worried.

"No," says the creature called Agumon, "we'll be even later. It's not much further now."

"Okay," says the man, still looking concerned, "if you're sure."

The two resume walking, this time side-by-side and a little slower. The man puts his hand down and grasps Agumon's claw in it, as if in reassurance.

"Thanks, Taichi," Agumon says. Taichi just nods curtly. As they walk, a new swirl of snow dusts softly down from the sky and settles around them.

The embassy building is stolid and gray, built like a European manor and confined by iron lattice fencing. Taichi and Agumon show identification to the guard outside, then disappear into the embassy's interior. Outside, snow continues to fall. A light dusting progresses to a blizzard, flakes falling in thick wet clumps. Soon the white powder coating on the sidewalk is more than a foot thick.

After a time an anonymous sleek black car pulls up in front of the embassy and stops there, engine humming. A few minutes later Taichi and Agumon exit the embassy gates, moving much more quickly this time. A tall slender man with silver-white hair accompanies them. As they approach the driver exits the car and rushes around to the back seat, holding the door open for them.

"Thank you again for calling the car," Taichi tells the silver-haired man in careful English. "It is much appreciated."

"I imagine such weather is quite unpleasant for someone such as yourself," the man says, addressing his comments to Agumon. He speaks in the Queen's English, lyrical yet stiff. "Small repayment for the courtesy of meeting with me, particularly on a holiday."

"Thanks," says Agumon, teeth already starting to chatter again, before clambering into the open car door.

"Ambassador," Taichi says, with a brusque nod to the silver-haired man. "I'll be sure to read over your proposal in the coming weeks. We'll be in touch."

"Merry Christmas, Ambassador Yagami," says the ambassador as Taichi stoops down and slides into the car.

"Merry Christmas," Taichi replies.

It isn't until the car has rolled down the street and out of sight of the embassy that Taichi speaks again.

"God, that man has a stick up his ass," he tells Agumon. "I spent that whole meeting just dying to make him take shots or maybe punch him in the face. Do _something_ to get him to loosen up."

In the front seat the driver snorts.

"Taichi, look," says Agumon, pointing out the front window. Taichi leans forward in his seat and peers ahead.

"Driver, can you stop the car?"

* * *

Sora trudges through the snow, dragging her overloaded bag behind her. Piyomon flutters next to her, struggling against the chilly air, another small bag hanging around her neck.

"Sora," Piyomon says, "did you have to bring so _many_ presents?"

"We're almost there, Piyomon," she replies. "Just a few more blocks now."

In the road next to them a black car slows and then stops. Sora eyes it dubiously. Is she seriously going to have to fend off some aggressive man hitting on her on _Christmas_?

As a precaution, as the window rolls down she pulls her keys from her pocket and arranges them between her fingers carefully so the keys poke out like jagged metal claws. She refuses to make Piyomon do all her fighting for her.

"Hi, Sora," says Taichi, poking his head out the car window and grinning. "Hi, Piyomon. Want a ride?"

Sora lowers her hand to her side, relieved. "Oh, it's you."

"We would love a ride," Piyomon says, flying right through the open window. "Come on, Sora!"

To Sora's surprise, a uniformed driver hops out of the front seat and rushes to her side, opening the door with a formal flourish. Inside Taichi and Agumon scoot closer together to make room for her. Somehow the driver manages to politely offload her bag without her noticing while she's sliding into the car. He places it in the back seat without fuss.

"What's with the fancy car?" Sora whispers to Taichi while the driver is walking around the vehicle to the front.

Taichi shrugs. "It's an embassy car," he says, as if that explains everything.

"Where to, Miss?" the driver says once everyone is seated.

"Huh? Oh. Same place as Taichi. I thought you'd be there by now," she says, turning to Taichi reproachfully.

Taichi makes a face. "We _were_. We had to come back for this stupid meeting."

"It's okay, Taichi," Agumon says. "We're almost there now."

"Thank goodness!" says Piyomon. "I can't _wait_ to be out of the snow for good."

"What's with the giant bag?" Taichi asks, raising an eyebrow. "Hiding a body?"

"It's Christmas," Sora says, like it's obvious. "So I brought presents."

"Oh," says Taichi, falling silent and looking down. His face is thoughtful, melancholy even. She knows that he's thinking of a Christmas Eve long past, a present she'd once given. "Is this going to be weird? For you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Taichi," Sora says, stern and reproachful again. "You and Yamato are my best friends, aren't you? I'm just happy to spend time with you."

It's definitely going to be a little weird. After all, it hasn't even been a year since she and Yamato broke up. It's a weird she can deal with, though. For all their sakes.

She's happy for them. Really she is.

It's only moments before the car is pulling up in front of Taichi's apartment complex. "Here we are," says the driver, hopping out and opening doors industriously. Once they're all standing on the sidewalk with their belongings in hand, Taichi takes the driver by the shoulder and leads him to one side.

"Is this your last stop or are they making you work all day?" he asks the man.

The driver looks uncertain. "Just doing my job, sir," he says.

Taichi is thoughtful. "You know what, Sora," he says, "I think maybe we have somewhere else we need the car to take us."

Sora catches on right away. "That's right, isn't it? My mother's house -"

"Then _my_ parents' house -"

"Then the grocers' -"

"Then that soccer field downtown -"

"Then Odaiba High -"

"Then File Island -"

They stop and smile at each other, entertained by their own joke. The driver is looking back and forth between them, bemused.

"I'm afraid we're going to be needing your services all day," Taichi concludes, all seriousness. "So you might as well call your boss and tell him you won't be available to drive anyone else."

Comprehension dawns on the man's face, chased instantly by a look of gratitude. He begins to shake Taichi's hand enthusiastically. " _Thank_ you, sir. _Thank you_. My wife and children - "

"Go," says Taichi gently. "Merry Christmas."

The man gives them one last look of gratitude and is gone like a shot. The four of them look at one another and smile. Then Sora and Piyomon follow Taichi and Agumon to the elevator and down the hall to his apartment door. A Christmas wreath hangs on it, decorated all over with colorful plastic ornaments in the shape of each of the Digidestined's crests.

"From Mimi," Taichi explains. He turns the door handle without reaching for keys. It's unlocked. The door swings open to a neat room lit by white Christmas lights running along the ceiling. Koushiro is sitting at the dining table, typing away on his laptop. Tentomon is by his side, wearing an overlarge green sweater complete with a brown reindeer head and a blinking red LED nose.

"Hello, Sora," Koushiro says, rising to greet them. "Hello, Piyomon. Taichi, I see your meeting went quickly. Excellent."

Sora runs over and hugs him. "It's good to see you."

She looks around the room. There's something different about the apartment. It's not just the Christmas decorations hung from every conceivable surface. She spots a paper chain with little cut-out Frigimons and SnowAgumons and knows that the decorations are Mimi's doing. She wouldn't be surprised to learn Tentomon's sweater was Mimi's idea, too.

"Taichi," she says, still looking around. "I don't think I've ever seen your apartment this clean."

Taichi laughs, unabashed. "Yeah. That's Yamato for you."

Sora smiles. Of course.

"Are we the last ones, Koushiro?" Taichi asks as the four of them head to the desktop alight in the corner of the room.

"No," Koushiro replies, following them with his laptop in hand. "Still waiting on Jyou and the younger kids."

"They better hurry up," Taichi says. "I hate to leave you here all alone."

"I'll be fine," Koushiro replies. "I have work to catch up on, anyway."

"If Jyou takes too much longer, tell us," Taichi says. "We'll all call him up and yell at him."

"Weren't you just working on Christmas too?" Sora points out.

"Ugh, don't remind me," says Taichi with a shudder.

"Come on, guys," says Agumon. "Let's go. I'm _hungry_."

Taichi and Sora raise their Digivices. The gate opens.

* * *

Yamato checks the turkey again. Still nowhere near done, he thinks. _Curse_ Mimi. Why in the world had he agreed to make a traditional Western meal along with his own already-planned menu?

"If you keep opening the oven door to check on it, it's just going to take longer," Gabumon says reasonably from beside him as Yamato bends over to baste the damned bird again. "Let it be."

"Yeah," says Takeru, spinning around in circles on his countertop barstool. "Come hang out with us, Yamato."

"Stop spinning my chairs," Yamato grumbles. "What are you, twelve? You're going to break them."

"Taichi does it too," Takeru points out, still spinning.

"Taichi is _also_ twelve," Yamato says.

Next to Takeru, Hikari laughs and starts her chair spiraling, too. "Come on, Yamato. Lighten up. It's Christmas."

Hikari has always been a devious little fiend, Yamato decides. It's just hidden behind that sweet and innocent facade.

"Ooh, that looks fun!" says Palmon, running into the kitchen. "Can I try?"

"All done with the decorations in the bathhouse!" Mimi calls, following close behind. "Everyone is going to _absolutely love_ it!"

"Mimi, do I _have_ to wear this?" Patamon says, pulling at the cord securing the elf's hat perched on his head. "It itches."

"Yes," says Mimi in a tone that brooks no argument. "You look too cute in it. You have to."

She catches Yamato's eye, then. "Yamato! You're not wearing the Santa apron I got you. Put it on, quick. Before anyone else gets here!"

Yamato thinks about arguing. But then he glances over at Tailmon, looking extremely grumpy in her reindeer costume, and knows he has no chance. " _Fine_."

Takeru and Hikari giggle as he pulls it on. "Aww, big brother, you look so cute," Takeru teases.

"Like Mrs. Claus," Hikari adds, hiding her smile behind her hand.

" _Shut up_ ," Yamato commands. "Both of you!"

Everyone in the room laughs at him this time. Even Gabumon. Yamato turns to stare at him, betrayed.

Just then, a loud clatter sounds from somewhere in the house. Tailmon and Patamon look around, startled. "What was _that?_ "

"Santa coming down the chimney maybe?" says Mimi with childlike ecstasy.

"It's probably Taichi," Yamato replies. "He always makes a ruckus when he comes through the gate."

He restrains himself from going to greet Taichi right away. He'll be along in a minute, after all. Yamato can wait.

Sure enough, a moment later Taichi is making his way into the kitchen. "I'm home!" he says. "Sora's here, too. I'm gonna show her the house real quick -"

"Ooh, let _me!_ " Mimi exclaims. Yamato only has a quick glimpse of Sora, auburn hair half-hidden under a pink wool hat, before Mimi grabs her hand and pulls her out of the room. She continues talking excitedly, her voice getting further and further away. "I can't _wait_ to show you my decorations, and I have _secret plans_ to fill you in on, and - oooh, what's this bag? Did Santa come after all?"

Palmon twirls and follows after, trailing strands of brightly-lit Christmas lights from her vines.

Yamato smiles. Even he has to admit that Mimi's pure love of Christmas is a little bit contagious.

He looks back at Taichi. Taichi is staring at the apron and laughing and laughing. "Oh my god," he says, wiping a tear from his eye. "Mimi is a genius."

"You shut up, too," Yamato says, crossing his arms over his chest and turning away. Before he knows it, Taichi is by his side, arms around Yamato's waist and lips against his cheek.

"Hi," he says, breath warm on Yamato's face. "Did you miss me?"

Yamato relaxes into the embrace despite himself. "You were only gone for a few hours. It's not like it was _days_ or anything."

"I missed you too," Taichi says, turning Yamato's face to his. Just like that they're kissing, Yamato relishing the feel of Taichi's lips under his, his tongue against his. He can't help himself; he grabs Taichi by the shirt and deepens the kiss, leaning into him, pressing their bodies together, moving one hand underneath the collar of Taichi's shirt.

"Uh, we're still right here," says Takeru from behind them. Yamato feels his face redden. He moves to step back, embarrassed, but Taichi stops him with a firm hand on his back.

"Oh whatever," Taichi retorts. "Like we haven't had to watch you and Hikari's displays of affection for years."

"Umm, we don't kiss like _that_ in front of you," Takeru points out.

"Those two have never been able to keep their hands off each other," Hikari says to him lightly. "I came here fully prepared for this eventuality."

"Point taken," Takeru admits.

Yamato is still caught in Taichi's embrace. He looks at Taichi's face, still flushed pink from being out in the winter cold, and feels the familiar well of emotion surge up in him again. How did he ever survive those two years without Taichi? How did he ever get from there to _here_ , to this fire-warmed kitchen with food cooking, the people he loves most surrounding him, and everything right with the world?

A voice calling from the distance interrupts his thoughts. It's Koushiro. "Hello? Anyone here?"

"Everyone else must have arrived then," Taichi says. "I told Koushiro to wait and lock the apartment door behind him after everyone went through the gate."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" says Agumon, leading the way out the door. "Let's go greet them."


End file.
